War
by Mr. GOP 88
Summary: An AU. Our cast is thrown into the chaos of World War II. How our cast meets and confronts the greatest conflict in human history. Same characters and point of views as usual.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_This is my first AU work so I hope you like it. A note; throughout this there are going to be words or phrases that some people may find offensive. It is not my intention to offend anyone, but I wanted to make this as realistic as possible and use appropriate dialogue for the 1940's. With that in mind, please read, review and most of all, enjoy._

**Chapter 1: Camp Percival **

Machine gun fire erupts around us. Everyone ducks to avoid fire, except for one poor bastard who wasn't quick enough. Half a dozen bullets rip into him and he dies before hitting the ground.

"TAKE COVER! Lay down suppressing fire!" I order my men. They begin to return fire on where we think the German positions are. German machine gun rounds continue to fly all around us. Damn it, we're going to be overrun.

"Alright boys fall back! FALL BACK!" I shout to my men, desperate to save us before it is too late. A terrible whining noise pierces the air.

"MORTAR!" I yell, hoping my men hear me and get protection.

Artillery fire explodes on top of my position. We scramble to get out of the way but it is too late. The men around me are dead. Pain explodes throughout me as a piece of shrapnel digs into my arm and the force of the explosion throws me to the ground. I'm unable to move, unable to think and unable to say anything.

"Protect the Major!" Someone shouts.

"What do you think I…" His voice stops as a bullet tears through him.

Other voices shout and other shots are fired, silencing some of the voices. With horror, some of the new voices I hear are speaking German. In my state, I can't do anything to resist the Krauts. I'm at their mercy, meaning I'm dead.

Two of the Krauts are standing near me. One of them starts arguing to the other, probably over which one gets to kill me. It's a pretty impressive story to tell the other guys in your unit; _I killed an American Major_. A third one comes up to the duo saying "Nein, nein." He gives them some orders and I offer futile resistance as the two men pick me up and carry me back to their lines. I'm bleeding, my unit has been decimated, and worst of all, now I'm the prisoner of the Germans.

***

I wake up from an unconscious state that couldn't really be called sleep. Standing over me is not a German soldier or member of the Gestapo or even the S.S. Instead, it's an older man dressed in one of our uniforms. Thank God, I must have been rescued by our guys.

"Don't move too much Major. Your arm is not in the best of shape."

"Who? Where? What's going on?"

"One thing at a time Major. I guess I'll start off with the easy ones. I'm Doctor Sid Hammerback."

"Doctor?" I ask confusedly.

"Yep I'm a medic."

"Where am I Doc?"

"A German P.O.W. camp in Italy. Camp Percival to be exact. The Commandant is a Wagner fan. "

"This is a camp?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Damn. Why'd they keep me alive?"

"You are a Major Sir, they must like you." He remarks with a trace of humor that makes me chuckle, but the pain forces me to stop. Doc Hammerback tries to keep me still.

"Easy."

I sit up anyways. My shirt is gone and I look at the nasty cuts and wounds that I took earlier from the mortar attack. My arm is bandaged and in a sling.

"That mortar did a number on you Major."

I'm about to respond when the steady sound of boots gets louder.

"Germans." Doc Hammerback says to me. I'm in no position to do much of anything.

Sure enough, an older officer in the Wehrmacht comes up to us along with his aide de camp. Both their uniforms are impeccably kept and their boots are shined so well I can almost see myself in them. An Iron Cross is fixed to the Commandant's neck.

"Commandant Colonel von Touffel." The aide announces. He offers the Nazi salute to the Commandant who returns it with less enthusiasm. _Good_ I say to myself _he's just a soldier not one of the fanatics_.

"Major." He says with a thick accent.

"Commandant." I reciprocate.

"I hope you are feeling better. That was a rather nasty injury you suffered. I will see to it that you are provided with a proper American uniform and a meal. Rest assured Major, this is the Wehrmacht, and we are civilized, unlike those barbarians in the S.S."

It is a generous gesture, but I'm sure he has an ulterior motive. "On to more pressing matters. Major, I am here by appointing you as the American commander for this camp since you are our highest ranking prisoner. I want you to help me keep order. After all, we are still soldiers and soldiers must obey a chain of command. You are to keep these men in line. Do I make myself clear? "

"Yes."

"Good. Auf Wiedersehen Major." He and his aide leave us and shout something in German to whoever is outside.

"I guess you are in charge now Major." Doc Hammerback tells me.

"A dubious honor trust me." I remark dryly. He laughs.

I try to get myself out of the bed and Doc Hammerback tries to stop me. "Whoa Major, take it easy. You are lucky to be alive, much less walking around."

"I'm not going to spend the rest of the war on my back Doc." He sighs and helps me up. I can't walk too fast, but I manage to get out of the medical barracks. There are a couple of my fellow prisoners wandering around.

"How'd you end up here Doc?"

"The Krauts overran the line and stormed the medical camp I worked at. When they found out I was a surgeon, they decided to send me to this camp to treat our wounded."

"Rather generous of them to have a GI take care of other GI's."

"They don't want to waste the time of German doctors to treat us. They also aren't the most generous with medical supplies. I was lucky to get enough to save you Sir."

"Comforting thought."

One of the men notices us standing here and he comes up. He is a taller man with black hair and the swagger of a guy who hasn't let being taken prisoner dampen his spirit.

"You must be the Major." He says to me.

"I am. And you are?"

"Sergeant Don Flack of Delta Company." He salutes me and I return the salute with my good arm.

"Nasty scrapes you have Major."

"Good observation Sergeant. Damn mortar hit my position."

"Sorry to hear that Sir. They got my unit at night. Bastards snuck up on us while we were sleeping. If I'd been awake, I'd have killed every one of them."

"Glad to hear you still have some fight in you Sergeant. Just don't do anything that gets us killed."

"No problem Sir."

Flack joins the Doc and me as I make my way around the camp. I try to remember the names of some of the people I meet: Weems, Grant, two Smith's, Wesley, Ross, a couple of Jones's, a Davis. Most of them are either pissed that they got caught or relieved that they have lived this long.

"Where are we anyways?" I ask Flack.

He shrugs his shoulders "I have no idea Sir. Only thing I know is that there is a town less than a click away."

"How do you know that?"

"Because one of the women from the town comes by to bring food and the like every once and a while."

"A collaborator?"

"I guess so, or a resistance member."

"I'd like to meet her."

Flack smiles "been a while since you've seen a woman Major?"

"She might be our way out of this dump Sergeant." I reply seriously.

"Well, you're in luck Sir, she's here now."

I follow Flack as he leads me closer to the entrance. Meeting with the Commandant is one of the prettiest women I've ever seen. She has long curly hair and beautiful. I can tell she's not fully Italian and there is also a trace of…Greek? I'm not sure.

"What's her name?" I ask, still struck by her beauty and grace.

"Don't know Major, why don't you ask her?"

"I don't speak Italian."

"No problem, she speaks English."

"Smart and beautiful." I say to myself, but my two companions smile anyways.

We come up to near the entrance of the Commandant's headquarters. The woman inside comes out and meets me in the eyes. She seems surprised to see me. I catch her eyes looking me over. I must look like hell; I have no shirt to cover up the nasty cuts and bruises on my chest, not to mention my arm in a sling.

"Who is this?" She asks me with little trace of an accent. Her English is perfect.

"Major Taylor." I say to her, not really concerned about her knowing my name.

"You seem a little young for a Major. You have a first name Major Taylor?"

"Mac." I find it hard to not answer her questions.

"Nice name. Mac. I like it."

"How about you? You have a name?" I ask nervously.

Her smile makes me feel weak.

"Stella Bonasera at your service Major Mac." She gives a mock salute. "I'd love to stay and chat Major, but I must be going. See you around." With that, she heads out of the camp, leaving me speechless in her wake.

_Like? Dislike? Either way, please send me your feedback. _


	2. The Contact and the Escapist

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly. _

_Thanks everyone for the warm response. AU is new to me so I hope I'm doing it right. Anyways, here is Chapter 2. Enjoy._

**Chapter 2: The Contact and the Escapist**

The dirt road is bumpy as the car moves along it, a process that could rattle the teeth out of her skull. Still, Stella Bonasera continues along it, hoping to reach the rendezvous point before dark. Her contact had wanted the meeting done right after she visited the prison camp so her memory would be fresh from the event.

Stella pulls her way up to the San Giovanni Church. She covers her head in a veil and enters, making the Sign of the Cross on the way in. She finds a pew and sits down, waiting.

A full ten minutes pass before another pair of feet signals the presence of another person within the holy sanctuary. They sit down beside her.

"I hope God is with you my sister." They say to Stella.

"I hope God is with you as well." She repeats their agreed upon phrase.

"Now that that is over, did you get a chance to visit the camp?" Her companion asks.

"Yes I did."

"And?"

"There aren't a lot of Americans in the camp yet, but I suspect that will soon change. Some of the Germans have been talking about their army going on the offense to try and bog down the Allies. If that's true, the camp will fill up."

"Any reliable men in there?'

"The Sergeant that we've had our eyes on is reliable. And there is the Major."

"Major? What Major?"

"Major Mac Taylor. He just recently arrived in the camp with a nasty wound to his arm. I could tell by looking at him that he is one to watch."

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Stella's companion can't hide a smile. "That wasn't all you thought when you looked at him, right?"

Stella finds herself smiling as well. "Well, let's just say that the Major showed more of himself than he probably wanted to."

"Was there anything between the two of you?" Her companion asks seriously.

"I doubt…maybe…I don't know." Stella struggles to find the words. The truth is, she really doesn't know what happened. She certainly felt like there was something; whether he felt the same, she couldn't say.

"Well, you can find an answer later. Right now, our goal is to keep an eye on those men and make sure they have everything they need."

"Agreed. Are you heading back to the Allied lines?"

"Yeah, my shift starts in three hours. Umm… Ms. Bonasera?"

"What?"

"Can you look at the camp for a soldier for me?"

"Sure. The next time I'm there I'll ask around. Do you have a picture of him?"

"Yes I do." They pull out a picture and Stella looks at it; he is a young, tough looking soldier.

"I'll make sure to keep an eye out for him."

"Thank you Ms. Bonasera."

"Anytime. You keep safe out there."

"You too."

They part ways.

***

The searchlights on the guard towers swing about wildly, briefly illuminating parts of the forest. Dogs are unleashed on the area, eager to hunt down their quarry.

Off in the woods, a pair of booted feet splash through a stream, trying to wade through it as quickly as possible. The booted feet snap twigs and branches in their wake. The person these booted feet are attached to doesn't care that he is leaving a trail. He figures that the greater the distance he gets between himself and the Germans, the better off he'll be.

The barking of dogs and soldiers gets closer to him and he makes a run to the far side of the woods, hoping to get into and through the clearing beyond it as fast as he can. He knows that his odds of getting away will diminish greatly if they spot him in the clearing.

Unfortunately for him, that is exactly what happens. A flashlight attached to a German officer spots him just as he exits the woods. No matter how fast he runs, he can't put any distance between himself and the Germans. A single shot is fired in his direction, barely missing his ear. He knows the game is up. At this point, surrender is his only option. He slows his run and slowly puts his hands up. The Germans catch up to him and proceed to show their displeasure at having to chase him. He sustains several kicks and punches before the officer in charge orders them to stop.

"Get this prisoner up! Don't kill him yet!" They haul him to his feet. The prisoner refuses to cower before the man who could kill him as quickly as look at him.

He shouts at the prisoner in German. The prisoner can't understand a word of it. "I've had enough with you. I've had it! You have done nothing but bother me and my men since the moment we caught you. This is the final straw. I can't kill you, but you are no longer going to be my problem." He turns to his men. "We are transferring this prisoner first thing in the morning. He will be Colonel von Touffel's problem."

One of them clubs the prisoner on the head, rendering him unconscious.

***

I spend the evening in the company of Doc Hammerback. The Commandant has yet to fulfill his promises to me about new clothes, but I guess you could call cold bratwurst a meal; I've tasted better German food in the Polish quarter of Chicago.

The next morning, von Touffel keeps his word and secures me something resembling a uniform. I'm grateful for it, but in the end, it won't change a basic fact. He is the head of this prison, and I am the highest ranking prisoner; we are not going to have an amicable relationship. His job is to keep us in this place; my job is to get my men out.

With Doc Hammerback's help, I get myself dressed and head out of the hospital barracks for the day. Sergeant Flack is waiting for us. He offers me a crisp salute.

"Morning Major, you're looking better today."

"Thanks Sergeant."

"I think we have a guest arriving today Sir." Flack tells me conspiratorially.

I get my hopes up, which he can obviously tell "no, not Ms. Bonasera Sir. It's another prisoner."

"Oh." I try and hide my disappointment. It fails.

Sure enough, a German jeep comes through the front gates and pulls up to the Commandant's headquarters. The Commandant's aide, Captain Kressing, comes out and speaks with the man in charge of the van. The Captain doesn't look too happy but acquiesces in whatever the other man says. Captain Kressing motions to the van and the Germans inside come out. Right behind them though is an American prisoner. He's a young guy, about Flack's age, with brown hair and the look of a hell-raiser if I've ever seen one.

Captain Kressing, the prisoner, and his escort make their way over to me. Luckily for everyone, Kressing speaks passable English. He gives me the Nazi salute which I completely ignore, much to his annoyance.

"Major, this American has been transferred to our camp. Apparently he already tried escaping from two other camps at least twice and now he is in our custody. Major, the Commandant has made it clear that you are responsible for keeping your men in line. He is no exception. Any attempts to escape on his part and the Commandant will hold you responsible. Is that clear?"

"Clear."

"Good." The Germans leave me, Flack, and Doc Hammerback with this would-be escapist.

"You have a name soldier?" I ask.

He salutes me "yes Sir I do. Corporal Danny Messer at your service."

_Good? Bad? Whatever your opinion, I'd love to hear it. _


	3. The Interpreter and the Mechanic

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly. _

_Wow, what a great response. Thank you to everyone who read Chapter 2. Here is Chapter 3 where I bring in two more characters, including my OC. Enjoy._

**Chapter 3: The Interpreter and the Mechanic**

The tall, thin man adjusts his glasses before entering the Commandants headquarters. Staff Sergeant Thomas Hayes has been at Camp Percival for a couple of days. He has already met his superior and Hayes respects the hell out of Major Taylor. The Major knows what he is doing. Hayes has been chosen to come to this camp specifically 'because of a certain skill you have that is needed'. The only thing he has is a university degree and the knowledge of how to grow oranges in Florida, neither of which is much use in a POW camp.

"You may enter Herr Staff Sergeant." Captain Kressing tells him. The American nods and heads inside.

The Commandant is sitting at his desk, busying himself with paperwork "Staff Sergeant, you are because I requested your transfer from another camp. Do you know why?"

Hayes shakes his head. The Commandant looks straight at him. "The reason why is that you have actually had a civilized education and can speak German. No other blasted American in this camp can communicate with my guards. I will not tolerate a language barrier getting in the way of effective running of this camp. You are now the official interpreter for this camp."

Hayes's head starts spinning; him, an interpreter? It's true that he can read, write and speak in German, but never in any sort of official capacity. The first time he used the language was when he had been captured. Hayes's unit was ambushed in Tunisia back in North Africa almost a year ago. It was his understanding of German that saved his life, letting him understand what the Krauts had been yelling when they surrounded him.

"Now Staff Sergeant, is there anything I can get for you to make your job easier?"

Hayes thinks for a bit and gets what he thinks is a great idea. "Actually yes there is Herr Commandant. If I may, I would like to request a pen and a copy of the Bible in English."

The Commandant looks confused at the requests "What for?"

"I have a good grasp of your language Herr Commandant, but sometimes writing it down will be helpful. The Bible is so I can practice my faith."

Commandant von Touffel examines the Staff Sergeant closely, looking to see what, if anything, he is hiding.

Apparently he finds nothing. "Very well Staff Sergeant. I will try and acquire those items for you from the Red Cross as soon as possible. Is there anything else?"

"No, that is it. Vielen dank Herr Commandant."

"You are dismissed Staff Sergeant."

Hayes walks out of the office satisfied; if the Commandant actually gives him those two simple items, they will be the tools he brings to any escape attempt Major Taylor is planning. He's been shuttled around POW camps for over a year and a half. He's wanted out of these damn POW camps since Tunisia.

***

With no moon in the sky, one of the prisoners of Camp Percival dodges the guards on patrol and makes his way over to the garage where the Kraut trucks were stationed. Wrench in hand, and working as quietly as he could, Private Adam Ross goes to work making life miserable for his captors.

He had been repairing a jeep with another mechanic when the Germans surrounded it. The other man tried to resist and was shot dead by the Germans. At that point, Ross decided that for the moment, no resistance was best. He assumes the Krauts spared him because he was good with machines. Ever since he was a kid, Adam had been fascinated by all things mechanical. When his dad bought a Model-T back when he was very young, Adam had to practically be torn away from the thing. He would spend hours examining every inch of the vehicle and he had pestered his dad for three days to see the engine. His dad did not react well to this, hitting him several times, but Adam persisted. 'Alright boy, if it means that damned much to you' his father had finally relented. Adam remembered that as one his happiest memories as a kid. When the War broke out, it was only natural that he signed up as a mechanic.

Another twist of the wrench and the truck Ross is working on lets out a loud groan of protest. Too loud. Ross has no time to move before the Germans come into the garage and discover him. They yell and shout at him, and he sustains two kicks to the ribs. Finally, Captain Kressing comes into the garage and looks at Ross with the utmost disdain.

"So, thought you could come in and destroy our vehicles? Fancy yourself a saboteur? Well, we have ways of dealing with that! I'd love to see your precious Major get you out of this one!"

***

A commotion outside stirs me out of a restless sleep. I head out of the barracks and outside as quickly as I can. Something is wrong; the air is thick with tension.

That's when I see Captain Kressing and one of my men; Ross I think. The Private is as pale as a ghost, but I notice a black substance on his hands. I think it is oil from one of the trucks. Was he trying to escape?

Kressing sees me and smirks wolfishly. The man is thoroughly enjoying the tense situation.

"Ah Major, good to see you up for this. It seems that one of your soldiers was trying to sabotage our jeeps. The Wehrmacht doesn't take kindly to saboteurs. So, I've decided to execute this man as a way of getting the rest of you to stay in line. Unless of course you can think of a reason for me not to do it."

Ross looks shocked at what Kressing says. His eyes grow wide and he looks even paler than he did before.

_Think Taylor think!_ There has to be some way to get Private Ross out of this alive.

"Well?" Kressing prompts, clearly waiting for me to not come up with anything so he can carry out the execution.

There is only one thing I can think of. It is incredibly risky, but may be the only hope.

"I'm the one the Commandant put in charge of these soldiers Captain." I start out slowly, precisely, trying to give myself time to think of the best way of saying what needs to be said.

"Correct…" the Captain says, curious to see where I'm going with this.

"You yourself said yesterday that I was responsible for the conduct of these men."

"Again correct. What is your point Major?"

My heart starts pounding in my chest as I lay down my trump card. "Shoot me instead."

The entire camp falls silent. A couple of the Germans mutter to each other, wondering what I said. Hayes says it to them in their language. The guards become quiet too.

_Well, at least you caught them off guard_ I say to myself.

"Umm…well…Major…I don't have the authority to do that." Kressing sputters out, clearly uncomfortable with how the conversation has turned.

Kressing weighs over his options. The Captain is definitely frustrated at the choice I've left him with. I get uneasy when a nasty grin spreads across his mouth; Kressing has reached his decision.

"Major, you did not try to sabotage our jeeps; this Private did. He, not you, will be held to account."

He orders Ross out of the crowd into a clear area.

"No…wait…" I call out, desperately trying to stall for time. I need time to think of something to say or do that can prevent this from happening.

Kressing ignores me and instead draws his Luger and points it at Ross's head. Ross closes his eyes and swallows, bracing himself for what is to come. The camp is absolutely silent. I offer a small prayer for Ross.

Kressing pulls the trigger. The bullet launches out of the barrel and speeds towards Ross…

And whizzes by his head, missing it by less than an inch.

The German soldiers explode with laughter. Ross looks like he is about to collapse and Sergeant Flack rushes over to help him.

"Take him to Doc Hammerback for a looking over. I'll be there in a minute." I instruct Flack.

I turn back and glare at Kressing. "You think that's funny?" I ask him with a dangerous tone.

"Major, I have to provide my men with entertainment and your men with a lesson. We'll see if Private Ross tries to meddle with our equipment again."

It takes all I have in me to not attack Kressing. Instead, I head towards the medical barracks. Doc Hammerback has just finished examining Ross with Flack standing watch.

"Major, he's doing fine, just a little shaken."

"Thanks Doc, you and Sergeant Flack leave us for a minute."

The two of them exchange a look I'm not supposed to see and head out.

"Thanks Major." Ross says gratefully.

I give him a very stern look "you are damn lucky that they didn't shoot you the moment they caught you, damn lucky Private."

He looks at me nervously, terrified that I'll unload on him.

"Look, I'm not going to chew you out; that bastard Kressing gave you enough shit with what he did. Just, next time you want to make the Krauts miserable, tell someone about it. We can organize and plan these things better as a unit than as an individual. Got it Private?"

"Yes Sir."

_Good? Bad? I welcome all opinions. Don't worry; the rest of our cast is coming up, some in dramatic fashion. Stay tuned._


	4. The Doctor or the Cook

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly. _

_Again, thank you for the kind reviews and great reception. Here is Chapter 4. Hope you like it._

**Chapter 4: The Doctor or the Cook**

I begin to bond with a small group of soldiers. Part of the reason is that they are all very different men; Sergeant Flack a take-charge kind of guy, Corporal Messer a hell-raiser if I've ever met one, Staff Sergeant Hayes the cerebral southerner, and Private Ross, the mechanical whiz. They play cards together, swear at the Germans, and have become friends. In whatever down time I give myself, I sit around and just talk with them. In truth, being the commanding officer of a group of prisoners is a lot like being a cheerleader. It's my job to keep their spirits up and make sure they have hope.

"Any of you got a girl?" I ask, trying to keep the mood light.

Messer, never one to be shy, jumps in. "Sure do Major." He pulls out a photo of a young woman in a white dress.

"One of the nurses Messer?"

"Yep. Her name's Lindsay. Lindsay Monroe and she's about the prettiest dame I've ever seen."

"Anyone else?"

Flack responds. "Yeah, my lady is named Jessica. You won't believe her last name; Angell. I got myself a real angel."

"She'd have to be to put up with you." Messer retorts, making the rest of us laugh.

"What about you two?" I look to Hayes and Ross.

"Umm… well…there is this one girl from back home, her name was Kendall and well…I guess you could call us a couple." Ross stammers out. It's been three days since I managed to keep Kressing from killing him and now he seems nervous every time he talks to me.

"And you Staff Sergeant?"

"Not me Sir, I was too buried in books to get a dame." Hayes shrugs. "How about you Major? You have a Mrs. waiting back in the States?"

"Had." I state simply. I expected the question. No one wants to ask the obvious follow-up and I'm glad. It gets quiet; it seems like they are uneasy with the subject now.

Luckily or not there is little time for things to be quiet. A big commotion starts up in another part of the barracks. Shouting in German catches my attention. I motion for the men to follow me and we head to where the eruption is.

Some of the Krauts are attacking a person in one of our uniforms.

"Hey, leave him alone!'' I call out to them. The Germans look at me with blank looks. I look at Hayes who starts translating what I said. They respond and start telling Hayes something.

"They say this soldier is lying to them."

"Well what did he say?"

..."They say he tried to tell them he was a doctor."

"What's so crazy about that?"

The Germans move away and I get a good view of the soldier for the first time. He looks like any other except…he's black.

Hayes looks at me "they said something I don't think you'll want to hear Major."

"Tell me exactly what they said Staff Sergeant." I respond curtly.

"They say that there is no way a black, as a member of an inferior race, could rise to the level of doctor. He must be practicing African magic and calling it medicine."

I boil in anger at the words. "Tell them" I state slowly and clearly so that everyone can hear and not misinterpret what I say. "Tell them that if ANYONE makes a remark like that about ANY soldier under my command, I will personally beat the hell out of them and not give a damn who it is."

Hayes swallows in nervousness and then relates what I said. It isn't a threat or false bravado; it's a promise. The Germans seem slightly taken aback by it. One of the younger ones sneers at me and mutters something loudly. Only one or two of his fellows laugh.

Hayes almost shakes in trepidation as he translates "he said that he didn't know you were commander of the… mud savages as well."

I lose it. I punch the offending German with my good arm and tackle him, sending us both to the ground. He gets in a few shots at my face and one at my wounded arm. My men pull me off him and his compatriots restrain him as well. There is blood coming from his nose and my arm is flaring up in pain.

A cold, authoritative voice starts coming closer. It's the Commandant. His men give him their salute and one of the officers starts jabbering away, trying to get in their version of events first. Hayes sees this and jumps in, giving our side. Finally the Commandant raises his hand to silence the noise.

"Enough. Major, is it true that you attacked one of my soldiers?"

"Only because that bastard insulted one of ours!" Sergeant Flack yells out hotly.

"Be quiet Sergeant, I'll handle this." I order him sharply. "Yes I did Commandant. He insulted the honor of one of my men and I retaliated."

"I see. While I understand your anger Major, I do have a hard time believing a Negro is a doctor. He must be hiding something."

Clearly, they aren't going to believe that he is a doctor. I need to play off their prejudices if I'm going to keep him out of the hands of the Gestapo.

"There was a misinterpretation. He was trying to tell your men that he is a cook, not a doctor."

"A cook? Well, that seems far more plausible than this ludicrous doctor idea. Major, I will punish you for attacking one of my men but also the soldier who provoked you. However, this cook will be allowed to stay. A simple misunderstanding is forgivable. Captain Kressing and I will discuss how best to punish you both."

He steps back a bit to converse with Kressing.

The young black soldier comes up to me, his eyes blazing with anger.

"I'm no cook Major Sir."

"They wouldn't believe you even if you showed them your degree. Sorry, but it's either pretend to be a cook or try and argue your medical credentials with the S.S. or the Gestapo."

He mellows and the anger dissipates. 'Yes Sir." He pauses for a second. "Thank you for standing up for me Sir."

"No problem. Who are you soldier?"

"_Doctor_ Sheldon Hawkes at your service Major." He salutes me.

"Glad to have you here doctor." I return the salute.

"Major." It's the Commandant again. "I have decided that you will spend one day in solitary confinement with no food as punishment for striking one of my soldiers."

Some of my men raise their voices to argue, but I won't. Nothing any of them says will make a difference and it may make things worse.

"Fine Commandant."

"Very well, this way Major." He leads me to the stockade, which is really just a small building with no windows and only one door. Two of his soldiers are standing guard. The Commandant gestures for me to get in, and closes the door, encasing me in total darkness.

***

"This is bullshit!" Sergeant Flack explodes, infuriated at the sentence passed on Major Taylor, a man Flack has grown to admire and respect. Much more than the idiot officer he had had to put up with before.

"Absolutely. Question is what are we going to do about it?" Staff Sergeant Hayes asks.

"We are going to help him." The new member of their group, Doctor Hawkes speaks up.

"I agree, we need to help the Major out." Corporal Messer asserts.

"But how?" Private Ross reiterates the Staff Sergeant's question.

"That woman who comes into to the camp, Ms. Bonasera, maybe she can talk to the Commandant on the Major's behalf." Messer suggests.

"How do we contact her?" Hawkes asks.

"It's a Thursday; she usually comes today, hopefully soon." Hayes states.

Sure enough, the car of Stella Bonasera comes up to the gate and the soldiers let her in. The group of men rushes over to her.

"Gentlemen." She nods to them and smiles, but it quickly vanishes when she notices something is wrong. "Where is the Major?"

"That's what we want to talk to you about." Flack says and quickly informs her of what has happened.

"So" Flack concludes "we were hoping that you could talk to the Commandant and try and persuade him to give this up."

A steely determination sets in her eyes "I will talk to the Commandant about this, this outrage."

The men hang back as the fiery woman marches up to the Commandant's headquarters and demands to be let in. The young German guard seems almost scared of her and lets her inside.

***

Stella Bonasera has a look of pure determination on her face as she waits to see Commandant von Touffel. She has grown fond of Major Taylor. _What was his first name?_ She's mad that she forgot. _Mac_ that was it. He had told her at their first meeting. She still smiled to herself when she thinks about it. There she was, some idealist in her best dress with nary a spot on it and there he was, a shirtless prisoner of war with his arm in a sling. She had her long, curly hair, he barely had any at all. There had been a spark when the two of them spoke. Technically their two countries are at war; Italy vs. the United States, Axis vs. Allies, but she sensed that something was there between the two of them. She hopes he feels it too.

Commandant von Touffel permits her to come in. Usually, Stella has found the Commandant to be a tough but fair man, and at the least a reasonable man.

"Frauline Bonasera, please come in, sit down."

"No thanks Colonel, I prefer to stand."

He shrugs "very well. What can I do for you?"

"What are you doing to the American Major?"

"Ah, you must have been approached by his men. Simply put Frauline, I ordered him into solitary confinement as punishment for striking one of my soldiers."

"Surely he must have had a good reason to do something like that?"

The Commandant nods. "Of course he did. My soldier was being highly unprofessional and undisciplined, but this is necessary."

"Necessary?!" Her voice starts to rise. "Commandant, the Major is still recovering from his injuries. Without food, he could become very weak."

"I don't want him to be _very_ weak."

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. "What do you mean Commandant?"

"Frauline, the Major is a very strong-willed man. His fellow prisoners rally to him and look up to him. If I let him get away with being defiant towards my soldiers and by extension, my authority, and then that will encourage the other men to defy as well. What is happening to the Major is that I am setting an example of him for the rest of the prisoners." He doesn't smile or sound particularly malicious about it. He just lays out his reasons in a precise, orderly way, as if he is explaining why he chose what to have for dinner.

"At least give him something to eat Commandant." She tries to persuade him.

He shakes his head. "I've given my orders Frauline and they will be carried out. Please do not concern yourself with the Major or how I run my camp. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Stella can detect the irritation behind his calm demeanor. Any further discussion of this will be a waste of time.

"No, there is nothing. Thank you for your time Commandant." She says through gritted teeth and walks out.

***

The men waiting for Stella notice how disappointed she looks. No one wants to ask her how it went.

"The Commandant wants to use the Major to set an example for the rest of you. You had better be worth it." She says unprompted and repeatedly jabbing her figure at them. She takes off in an angry, sullen mood, leaving the rest of them to figure out an answer themselves.

"So now what?" A frustrated Messer asks. There is a gap of silence as everyone tries to come up with a solution.

"We need to get the Major some food. I'm sure we can smuggle some to him." Ross suggests.

Hayes shakes his head. "Won't work. The Germans are very meticulous. They will know he got food and will probably punish him even worse because of it."

Hawkes comes up with an idea and presents it to the group. They all agree that it is the best they can do under the circumstances. They decide to inform the rest of their fellow prisoners. Soon, word spreads like wildfire throughout the camp and every American prisoner of war signs onto it as a way of quietly defying the Germans and showing solidarity with their commander.

_Good? Bad? Whatever your opinion, I'd love to hear it._


	5. Setbacks and Weaknesses

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly. _

_Thanks again folks for all the kind reviews, hit, alerts, favorites, and for just reading my little story. Here is Chapter 5. Enjoy._

**Chapter 5: Setbacks and Weaknesses **

Commandant Albrecht von Touffel rubs his eyes in an attempt to fight off the headache that he feels is coming on. These damn Americans are a much bigger pain than he had wanted to deal with. It's days like these that make him wish he could be leading soldiers in the field instead of babysitting soldiers in a POW camp.

"Captain Kressing." He looks to his aide de camp. The brutal man was not his choice for an aide. If von Touffel had had his choice, he would have picked another, but the last he heard, that man was somewhere on the Russian front. Probably dead by now; almost everyone von Touffel knows who has gone to the Russian front has ended up dead. The invasion was a disaster. Why Field Marshal von Keitel or Colonel General Jodl had agreed to that mess, von Touffel will never know.

"Yes Colonel?"

"How do we deal with these Americans?" He wonders aloud. At least one thing is now going right; without that Italian woman here, he can now speak his native tongue.

"What do you mean Sir?" The aide wonders.

"How do we get these Americans to accept the facts? They are prisoners and we are their guards, but these Americans don't seem to understand that."

"If I may speak freely Sir, but why not impose a tighter regiment on them, or inflict more severe punishments? The Americans must know the price for disobedience." Kressing's voice rises as he grows angrier at the very thought of these defiant prisoners.

"You are a typical Bavarian, Captain; too much passion, not enough logic. We are not the Gestapo. These men are fellow soldiers; they need to be treated as soldiers. "

"But Commandant, these Americans need to know that we are in charge. How about this, the next man who tries to escape is shot?"

The Commandant mulls it over. "That may work, or it may cause them to resist all the more."

"Fine, shoot the Major then. If these men rally to him so much, then if we get rid of him, they won't be as disobedient."

"Absolutely not. I will not make the Major into a martyr for his soldiers. We'll see what effect solitary confinement has on him and decide after that. In the mean time, I want you to keep an eye on the Americans, especially the ones that the Major seems to have grown close to. Report back to me when you find a weakness we can use."

"Yes Sir."

***

One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat. Encased in darkness, my other senses heighten. I hear a floor board on step four squeak. I smell the stagnant air. I feel the sweat building up under my arms.

_One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat._ Damn it's dark in here. I've been camped out on nights of the new moon in the deserts of North Africa that weren't as dark as this. The Germans must use this to mentally disrupt their prisoners. It's simple but effective.

_One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat._ Wonder what my superiors would say if they figured out what I did. _'You punched a guard Taylor? You're lucky they didn't shoot you then and there_.'They'd either decorate me for bravery or reprimand me for stupidity.

_One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat._ Hope Doc Hawkes is doing okay. God knows how tough it must be for him. To have knowledge and an education no one believes you can have just because of what you look like. I saw it in Chicago; ugly signs on the front of businesses declaring _No coloreds allowed _or _We only hire Whites_. Here we are, fighting this world war against tyranny, and we still don't allow blacks to live in the same neighborhood as whites or work the same jobs. It's a disgrace and just plain stupid.

_One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat._ I wonder how my men are doing. All of them, especially Flack and Messer, aren't the kind of guys to take something like this lying down. They are probably planning something. I hope they aren't crazy enough to try and break me out or smuggle me some food. The German's aren't stupid; they'll find out. Hayes and from what I've briefly seen Hawkes keep cool heads. Hopefully those two keep Messer and Flack from doing anything too rash. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to them because of me.

_One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat._ It's Thursday; Ms. Bonasera should have come by. Maybe she asked about me? I doubt it. She's a local woman, probably pissed off that there is a war happening in her backyard. She's probably thinking; '_I don't care who wins. I just want to know why you all can't just kill each other somewhere else? Just leave us alone and fight your war elsewhere.'_ I hope not, but I'm pretty sure. Although, the way she looked at me when we met… maybe there was something there?

_One…two…three…four…five, turn around, repeat. _

***

When the time came for supper, the German guards are baffled. Not a single one of the Americans eats any food. It is the same food that they served last night at dinner, but this time, none of the prisoners take a bite. Captain Kressing, keeping an eye on the Americans for his superior, rushes to the Commandant's headquarters.

"Herr Commandant! Herr Commandant!"

"What is it Captain? I was just about to sit down to dinner."

"It's the Americans; they are refusing to eat anything."

"What?!" The Commandant quickly grabs his uniform jacket and heads out to find that yes; the prisoners are refusing the food.

"What is going on? Sergeant! Outside now!" The Commandant bellows out in anger towards Sergeant Flack.

"Oh boy, you've got trouble Don." Messer ribs Flack as the tall American stands up and heads out to be face-to-face with a clearly agitated von Touffel.

"Why are you men not eating? Is our food not good enough for you? Are you Americans so spoiled that good German food isn't good enough?" Von Touffel spews out.

"Our commanding officer is not eating, so we will not eat." Flack says with a surface calm. Inside though, he is nervous as to how the Commandant will respond and prays that the Germans don't punish Major Taylor for their actions.

"This will not help the Major in anyway Sergeant." Von Touffel says trying to keep his cool.

"We are simply following the example of our commander. When he eats, we eat."

Von Touffel's face starts to redden and his voice rises in anger as the conversation progresses. He begins speaking faster, and angrier. Von Touffel is speaking so quickly and angrily that Flack struggles to know what he is saying; von Touffel's accent making it hard to understand. The German soldiers who hear it can't help but smile as their commander chews out the American. Finally, von Touffel finishes yelling at him and storms off. Captain Kressing stays back to watch the Americans.

Flack heads back into barracks and sits down with a dour look on his face. The others instead look eager, wondering what their defiance did to the Commandant.

Not even looking at his friends, Flack simply mutters "we got him another day in that hole."

"What!" Messer explodes, furious at the Commandant's heavy-handed tactics.

"The Commandant said that he couldn't care less who eats and who doesn't, but since we were defiant of his orders, the officer in charge must be held accountable. That means Major Taylor."

"They are so full of shit." Messer says, giving voice to the anger that the rest of them feel.

"Now what do we do?" Ross asks quietly.

"There's more." Flack looks at Hawkes with pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry Doc, but they want you to help the Germans with cooking food that we will eat. If our men don't eat, then the Commandant will assume you really aren't a cook and have been lying the whole time."

"Bastards." Messer mutters aloud.

Hawkes keeps his cool. "We'll worry about that later. In the mean time, what do we do for Major Taylor?"

"Nothing." Hayes says dejectedly. "This idea has turned into a disaster. We need to wait for the Major to be out of that hole before we do anything else."

The mood amongst the Americans is much more somber and subdued.

Captain Kressing on the other hand is positively giddy. The incident with the Americans and their food taught him an invaluable lesson; the Americans are willing to do almost anything for their precious Major. Kressing laughs out loud in triumph at his realization. He has found their weakness.

_Like? Dislike? If you have any thoughts on this, I'd love to hear them._


	6. The Nurse and the Performer

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly. _

_Well, this came to me a lot quicker than I expected. Just goes to show what ideas can come at 2:00 am. Thanks as always for the very kind reviews and everything else. Here's Chapter 6. Enjoy._

**Chapter 6: The Nurse and the Performer**

"His stats are dropping!"

"We need to stop the hemorrhaging!"

"Damn these Kraut bullets."

Heading out the door, the chaos of the ER is replaced by the peace and quiet of the recovery ward. Wounded GI's are in each of the white-sheeted beds. Some sleep, others smoke, and a couple try to flirt with the nurses. One in particular, the wounded seem to have their hearts fixed on wooing. Her grace and friendly demeanor has made her a prize coveted by many of the wounded GI's. However, she has not succumbed to any of them. For Nurse Lindsay Monroe, these men have nothing romantic that she wants.

Nurse Lindsay as she is known to the men has been in southern Italy since when the hospital moved from Sicily. Unlike other women, she didn't want to sit state-side waiting for the war to end. She wanted to make a difference, she wanted to help, and she especially wanted to fight the Germans in her own way.

She finishes up her rounds and heads out to take her break. Heading out of the hospital, she takes in the warm Italian sun. She searches for something to sit on and finds an unused chair away from the smoking doctors. Her father smokes, but Lindsay finds it disgusting. Taking out the pen and paper she has been carrying around all day she begins to write:

_07-10-1943_ _Dear Danny:_

_ It's been a week since I wrote you. Ms. Milly has let me change shifts with Sarah so now I work in the mornings and afternoons instead of the night shift. I got a letter from mom last week. Everything is going okay back home, but she said the rubber rationing has been tough. Dad said that he was able to sell almost every cow this year, which is the best since before the Depression. Mom asked about you and I told her you were fine. I hope I wasn't lying to her. I know you won't get this letter; the Krauts aren't nice enough to deliver letters from nurses to prisoners of war. I know you aren't going to stay still and wait for this war to get over with, but please take care. I want to be able to sit down one day with you and read all these letters together. I cannot wait to see you again. I'm praying for you._

_ Love: Lindsay_

She sighs again after finishing the letter. A part of her always wonders why she even bothers writing letters that will never get sent. She knows she is doing it more for herself than for him. If she keeps writing to him, then she has to believe that he is still out there, safe and alive. Carefully she folds the letter and kisses it.

"I'll be waiting for you Danny."

***

The soldiers start a great clamor. The performer takes a bow and smiles broadly for the crowd. Her performance had been a great success and they cheered and applauded her. She went out for another round of applause. She wouldn't deny it, she liked it when they chanted for her and showed their appreciation for her talent.

As much as she would like to stay though, this is not the reason for her visit.

After the show, she headed to the other side of the base and found the bureaucrat she had been waiting to see. He waves her in.

"Ah, good to see you ma'am."

"Lieutenant." She nods shortly but politely. She doesn't want to waste time with pleasantries.

"What can I do for you ma'am."

She takes out a photo from her purse and shows it to him.

"I want to know about this soldier."

The Lieutenant examines the photo closely.

"Does he have a name, rank and unit?"

"Yes. He is Sergeant Don Flack of Delta Company of the 82nd."

"What exactly do you want to know about this soldier ma'am?"

"Exactly where he is." She says impatiently. This is the reason Jessica Angell has come to Southern Italy. The singing and performances are completely secondary. She is here to find the man she loves."

The Lieutenant examines the photo, then her, and takes a deep breath. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but the United States Army is busy fighting a war and doesn't have time to go searching for individual soldiers. I'm truly very sorry, but this is not in any way a priority for us. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Fighting back anger and tears she shakes her head and gets out of the office. She finds her way to what she thinks is a deserted spot on the base and buries her head in her arms, still holding the photo in her hand. A stiff breeze comes out of nowhere and snatches the photo away. She fights back her tears and tries to go after it, determined not to lose such a priceless treasure. Unfortunately, she isn't fast enough to keep up with it until one of the nurses notices what is going on and quickly grabs for the photo to keep it from being fully blown away.

Jess comes up to the young woman. "Thank you. I couldn't bear to lose that." She says gratefully.

"No problem" the other person says cheerily. She glances at the photo and Jess starts feeling a little impatient.

"Um, I don't mean to be rude but can I have that back please?" She holds out her hand.

The other person seems to realize what they are doing. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that, I think I know about this soldier."

"You do?" Incredible hope fills Jess's soul. If this nurse knows where Don is…

"Yes I do. Come over here, we need to talk." The nurse leads her to an even more isolated and abandoned part of the base.

"What's going on Ms…?"

"Lindsay Monroe. I'm one of the nurses here. And you are?"

"Jess, Jessica Angell. How do you know Don?" Jess asks sharply. She needs to know.

"I don't exactly know him, but I have a friend who does."

"What friend?"

"An Italian woman."

"An Italian? We are at war with the Italians."

"Not all the Italians are against us." Lindsay says calmly.

"Wait, if you know an Italian does that mean you are?" Her eyes widen in realization.

Lindsay nods. "I'm with the Office of Strategic Services, our spy network, and my Italian friend is my contact with the local Resistance."

"Oh God." Jess exclaims. What has she or Don gotten into?

"My Italian friend has met your soldier, Sergeant Flack. There is good news and bad news."

"Please just tell me." Jess pleads.

"The good news is that he is still alive and unhurt."

An enormous weight seems to have lifted from Jess's shoulders. _Alive._

"The bad news is that he is in a prisoner of war camp. Camp Percival."

"Oh no." Jess gasps.

"I'm afraid so."

"Is there anything I can do for him? Any way I can help?"

Lindsay looks at her closely. Obviously this woman, Jessica is talented and resourceful. She managed to make it all the way over her to Southern Italy for the man she loves. _She wants to do something_. Lindsay gets an idea.

"Ms. Angell, do you, by chance happen to know another language?"

Jess is puzzled by the question but answers nonetheless "actually, I can speak Spanish very fluently."

_Spanish._ It's the perfect language.

"That's great Ms. Angell."

"You can just call me Jess."

"Okay, you can just call me Lindsay."

"Why did you want to know Lindsay?"

Lindsay looks at her with a very serious look on her face. "I have an idea. It is very dangerous and you will be undertaking a lot of risks, but it may just be a way to help out your soldier, and our whole war effort.

Jess is taken aback by this. All she really wanted was to find Don. But undertaking a dangerous mission? Helping out the whole war?

"What sort of mission?" She asks skeptically of her new companion.

"An undercover mission. The OSS can get you a phony passport from Spain since they are neutral and the Germans like them. You speak the language so you can pass it off. Jess, how'd you like to perform for the German Army?"

This is definitely way more than she bargained for. Lying about where she is from. Performing in front of a bunch of German soldiers?

"How will this help Don or the war effort?"

"You would go and perform for the German soldiers at the POW camp that your Don is imprisoned in. While there you can smuggle in some of the stuff they need to escape. After you've performed for the Germans, you can stay with Ms. Bonasera, our Italian contact, in her home and aide the soldiers once they've escaped."

The plan makes sense to Jess. It's certainly extremely dangerous, but she'd get to see Don and help him out of the mess he's in.

"So, does that sound like a plan?" Lindsay asks her.

Jess needs little conviction. "Yes I'm in. For Don."

"Glad to hear it. Welcome to the OSS Ms. Angell."

_Good? Bad? Whatever thoughts you have, I'd love to hear them._


	7. Doom and Despair

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly. _

_Thanks as always for the very warm response. It's truly very humbling. Here is Chapter 7. Warning; there will not be a lot of good things happening in this chapter. Still, enjoy._

**Chapter 7: Doom and Despair**

The core team around Major Taylor, still reeling from their failure over the food strike, has tried taken turns doing what the Major always seemed to be doing; going around and lifting the spirits of the men. To that end, Corporal Danny Messer is heading to talk to Privates Grant and Weems.

When he first arrived at the camp, Danny had been suspicious of Major Taylor. Officers just rubbed Danny the wrong way. Once he got to know the Major, Danny's antipathy had disappeared. The Major respected him like most officers never did and Danny in turn respected the Major more than he ever respected any other officer. Seeing him stand up for Doc Hawkes gave Danny even more respect for the Major. To do that, not only in front of the Germans but also in front of his own men, some of whom probably have the same feelings as the Germans, it impressed the hell out of Danny.

Coming up to Grant and Weems, Danny tries to make small talk.

"Afternoon guys."

"Afternoon Corporal."

The three of them talk and in the conversation Weems reveals a secret to Danny; he and Grant, along with Smith and Davis, are going to escape the following week. Danny urges them to be cautious, warning them about the penalty for getting caught.

"Don't worry Corporal." Grant says cockily. "We won't get caught."

Danny has a nasty feeling that those words will come back to haunt them.

He's right.

***

I'm finally let out of the stockade a day later than scheduled. Other than a gnawing hunger and some stiffness, I fell mostly fine. I let Doc Hammerback examine me just in case and he happily announces that my arm is healing fast; it would probably be back to normal in no time at all.

The Doc also informed me of why I had been locked up for another day; the food strike. I'm feeling both angry and grateful for my men's gesture. I am touched that they tried to express their solidarity with me like that, but I'm also angry that they put themselves in unnecessary danger. Giving me one more day in that hole and sending Doc Hawkes to the kitchen as infuriating and degrading as they are, were really mild punishments. If Kressing had been in charge, I'm sure it would have been far worse.

***

_Five days later…_

Corporal Fredrick Jammer, one of the prison guards continues his nightly patrols. He is glad to finally be on patrol duty; last week he had been bored to tears guarding the stockade when the American Major had been sent there as punishment. The last few days had been quiet at least. Maybe Commandant von Touffel's punishment had worked.

On the outside perimeter of the compound, Corporal Jammer turns a corner and his flashlight comes across what appear to be holes in the ground. Man-made holes. Drawing closer to them, Jammer notices four sets of boot tracks heading off in the direction of the Americans barracks. Jammer races to inform his superior, Lieutenant Schmidt, who tells Captain Kressing.

"And you didn't see who made this escape attempt?" Kressing quizzes Jammer.

"No Sir I didn't. If I may speak freely Sir, the Americans are not going to reveal who tried to get out."

Kressing breaks into a thin, evil smile "Don't worry about that Corporal, those men will openly admit to what they did. All I have to do is talk to the Commandant."

With a plan in mind Kressing speaks with his superior about his plan. Commandant von Touffel gives him a simple response.

"Captain, I'll be away tomorrow. Do what you wish but please spare me the details."

Kressing salutes his commander and heads out of the headquarters. Outside, he can't help himself, he starts laughing. This will be the perfect opportunity to test his theory.

***

Another unorganized escape attempt. Weems and Grant had tried lead Smith and Davis to dig a tunnel and it was discovered. This is not going to end well. The only thing working in our favor is that the Krauts don't know who exactly was a part of this. If everyone keeps their mouths shut, we should be fine.

Kressing has called all the Americans and Germans in the camp to assemble, probably in an attempt to get someone to confess.

"Who amongst you were the ones who organized this latest escape attempt?" The Captain does not switch to English instead forcing Hayes to translate his words.

No one says a word.

Kressing barks an order to his guards and Hayes's face grows very concerned. Two of Kressing's thugs in uniform come towards me and grab my arms. I wince in pain when one of them touches my wounded arm. They bring me up to Kressing. He appears amused as he draws his Luger and points it at my cheek.

He makes his threat to Hayes who has a renewed look of fear in his eyes when he relays it to the rest of us.

"Captain Kressing will count to three and if the ones responsible do not come forward, he will shoot Major Taylor."

"Eins." No one moves.

"Zwei." A couple of the men exchange glances. _Don't do it _I urge them in my head.

"Dr…" He is about to finish his count when Grant steps forward.

"Wait. It was me. I organized the escape attempt."

"So did I." Weems confesses too.

_ No. You should have kept quiet_ I say to myself. Knowing Kressing, I have a horrible feeling as to what is going to happen next.

"It was you two?" Kressing switches to English.

Weems and Grant nod.

"Who else?" He shoves the Luger into my face again for emphasis.

This time, Smith and Davis come forward. _No._ Kressing smiles.

Without another word Kressing fires a bullet into Weems's head, killing him instantly. There is no time for anyone to absorb the shock when he does the same to Grant. Both men lie dead on the ground, blood pouring out of their heads.

Kressing points to Smith and Davis "you two get these bodies out of here before they start to stink. My men will show you where to bury them." He then barks an order to his men and to Hayes.

The sadistic Captain doesn't let me head back towards my men. Every one of them has an awful look of despair. Hayes looks like he is in near panic mode.

After some time with this eerie silence two more shots ring out. Deep down I know what happened, and it is gut-wrenching. Confirming my worst fears, the guards that had accompanied Smith and Davis come back alone.

Kressing looks at the rest of us.

"The rest of you men have been warned. The Commandant has realized that he has been too generous and forgiving for far too long. Any other prisoner that tries to escape will be shot. As for you Major."

Kressing looks at the soldier right beside me and jerks his head towards me. The soldier swings his rifle and slams it into my injured arm. I yell out in pain and collapse to my knees while clutching my arm. Doc Hammerback rushes over to help me.

The Captain looks at me with amusement again.

"This last attempt to escape was very sloppy Major. Do try to keep your men in line or at least better at what they are doing. Think of this as just a helpful reminder. I'm being quite generous I think. Enjoy the rest of your day." Kressing starts laughing as he and his men leave us. I can barely hear anything my arm hurts so badly.

"I'm going to kill him" I hear Flack say. It isn't the good-natured Flack I know; it is a dangerous man speaking this declaration, one with murder in his voice.

"No." I gasp.

"Sorry Major, I'm not going to follow your orders on this one. That bastard deserves to die."

"But you don't Sergeant. We just lost four good men today. Damn it!" I swear at Doc Hammerback as he starts to examine my arm but also at that bastard Kressing.

I press on with my case. "Flack, you are too valuable to lose in some suicidal attempt at revenge."

"But Major, if we don't do something, that sadistic son of a bitch is going to kill everyone."

"We are going to escape Sergeant. That is how we honor those four men."

I think I've cooled him down a bit. Luckily for me, Doc Hammerback finishes up, at least ending the poking and prodding at my arm.

"You're lucky Major, he didn't break anything, but don't put any strain on that arm for any reason."

I nod to the Doc and turn my attention to the rest of the men. I notice that Hayes's hands are shaking and the Staff Sergeant doesn't have any of his usual calm.

"You alright Staff Sergeant?" I ask with concern.

His hands continue to shake. "Sir, Kressing knew English, but the bastard wouldn't use it. He told those men that they were going to shoot Davis, Smith, then you. He told me if I said anything I would be added to that list. I thought you were going to die Sir."

I'm about to try and reassure him but he presses on. "Then Kressing said 'I can't kill this man, he's too valuable. They'll do anything for their precious Major'. He kept you alive because we respect you and want to fight for you Sir."

If possible, the sense of doom and despair that has attacked my men sinks even deeper into them.

_Good? Bad? Whatever your opinion, I'd love to know it._


	8. Desperate Times

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly_

_Thanks again folks for the very warm reception. A personal note; this story now has more reviews than any of my previous works. Very heartfelt thanks to all of __you__ for making this happen and we aren't even close to being done yet. Here is Chapter 8. Enjoy_

**Chapter 8:** **Desperate Times**

The men imprisoned in Camp Percival have at this point, abandoned all hope of ever getting rescued or getting out. The cruelty and sadism of Captain Kressing has demoralized them, causing most to simply give up on any form of escape. Some aren't eating, one at least openly thought about suicide, and the demon of insomnia now has a claim on more than just their commander.

Private Ross is sitting with Sergeant Flack, who is smoking a cigarette.

"We're never going to get out of here are we Sergeant?" Ross asks dejectedly.

Flack doesn't look at Ross; instead he stubs out the cigarette and merely says "Probably not."

A couple of the guards are near them, laughing at some inside joke. One of them to emphasize a point, takes out his Luger and fires off a bullet at nowhere, making the rest of them laugh. For Ross though, that sound, which only a few weeks earlier he thought had signaled his death, was too much. The mechanic hurries behind the barracks, away from the Germans and proceeds to throw up.

Flack looks at another cigarette intently as if weighing whether or not to work on another one. He decides not to. Flack had never smoked before he got into the camp. Jess didn't like it. _Jess._ Thinking about her was painful for him. He used to hold out the hope that he would see her again. He doesn't have that hope anymore.

On the other side of the barracks, Ross finds Hayes who is meandering about. Behind his glasses, the Staff Sergeant has a clear 'leave me alone' look that Ross picks up on. The Staff Sergeant seems to have no particular direction or purpose to his wandering; he's just wandering, trying to avoid other people. Hayes isn't thinking much either. That would force his mind to concentrate, and that was the last thing that Hayes wanted to do. Right now, he just wants a mental escape and thinking about nothing is the best way to do it.

In another part of the Camp, more specifically the mess hall, Doc Hawkes and Corporal Messer sit together in silence. The doctor definitely had his pride wounded when he had been sent to the kitchen as a cook, but he is trying to make do as best he can. He counted himself lucky; he had been stuck in the kitchen when Kressing was performing his sick little stunt.

Messer's eyes droop as the Corporal fights off sleep. Like Major Taylor, Messer has found sleep a harder and harder commodity to come by. His rest is filled with frightening images of Weems and Grant, bleeding out with their lifeless eyes and Grant's lips mouthing the words "why didn't you stop us?"

"I can't take it anymore Doc." He suddenly announces in frustration.

"Can't take what?"

"Everything. What happened. Wondering if I didn't do enough. And the waiting. Waiting for Kressing to shoot someone else, for Major Taylor to come up with a plan, waiting for this damn war to be over with."

"I agree." Hawkes says quietly.

Messer expected Doc Hawkes to offer some kind of encouragement or tell him to stop whining, he never expected Hawkes to agree with him. Oddly, that doesn't make Messer feel any better.

***

Morale amongst the men has plunged to an all time low. I don't hear anymore talk of escape or of what they are going to do when the war is over. Almost every one of them thinks they are going to die in this camp. Even my core team seems to be abandoning hope. I've noticed changes in them especially. Messer used to be quick with a joke or a funny story. Now, his tongue is brittle and he lacerates anyone who gets on his nerves. Flack, who used to be the picture of confidence, is morose and barely says anything to anyone. Hayes has become more of a recluse, spending a lot of time by himself. Ross is jumpy and seems very nervous that he is next on Kressing's shit list. Doc Hawkes perpetually seethes with anger at his position; any American who calls him a cook is asking for it. Only Doc Hammerback seems to have stayed mostly the same, although even he is quieter than he used to be. The doc used to share his rather odd musings with me, but now he is much more business-like, more of a doctor instead of a friend.

As for me, I don't think I've changed my habits or mannerisms too much, although inside I'm very bitter about what happened. I'm actually angrier at Commandant von Touffel than at that Kressing. The Captain is a monster; anyone who is around him for any length of time could tell. The Commandant is not. From what I've seen, Commandant von Touffel is an old-fashioned soldier; a Prussian aristocrat probably doing the same things his family has done for centuries. To think a man like that could condone what Kressing did, it pisses me off.

Fortunately for my own sake, it's Thursday and that means Ms. Bonasera is coming by. My men told me about how she had tried to speak to the Commandant about my punishment in the stockade. I didn't really know what to say when I heard that. She didn't have to do that, although I deeply appreciate her concern. This is only our third meeting, but I can detect that there is something special about her.

I also deeply appreciate any company that doesn't remind me of this camp or the events that have transpired here. The last four have reminded me exactly what Hell is. I'd take being back in the field over this any day of the week. At least there we could resist the Germans and fight back. Here, we are close to powerless, especially against that sadistic bastard Kressing.

The two of us are alone in my barracks. The Germans are so convinced that we've lost that they don't even mind letting her talk to me in private.

"What's wrong Mac?" She asks. My ears perk up; this is the first time she's called me by my first name. Before it's been 'Major' or 'Major Taylor'.

I tell her what happened, while leaving out a few things. She can tell that I'm holding something back and demands more information. I'm in no mood to argue so I give her what she wants, except for what had happened to me. Instead of gasping or expressing horror at what happened, she gets a steely gaze.

She crosses her legs and stares directly into my eyes. "So now what are you going to do?"

That is the very question I've been wrestling with for four days. "I don't know Ms. Bonasera."

"I think we can be on a first name basis by now Mac. Just call me Stella."

I can't help but grin slightly but it goes away the moment I turn back to the topic of our conversation.

"What happened was a devastating blow Stella. It was about more than just killing those four men. It was about control. Kressing established that he has control and that we don't. This just destroyed morale. My men have pretty much given up. If I can't think of a way to revive their spirits, then any escape plan is gone. I need my men to be motivated if they are going to risk their lives in an escape attempt."

She brings up her hand and places it on the shoulder of my injured arm. I pull back in pain.

"What happened Mac? I thought your arm would have healed by now?"

This was what I 'forgot' to tell her. She doesn't need to be worrying about me.

"It's nothing." I try to wave it off, but she's having none of that

"Don't lie to me, what happened?"

Once again, I find it impossible to lie to her; I tell her the details I had left out.

"Oh Mac, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

The steely determination is giving away to another look. Is it pity? Or sorrow? I'm not sure.

"I need to do something Stella. Something that will revive my men and make them want to fight again."

"What are you thinking Mac?"

"I need to show them that there is still hope and that this isn't over yet. I need to stop Kressing from using me as some damned shield to get what he wants. He thinks he's found my men's weakness; me. I'm going to take that away from him."

"Mac, please. Don't do anything drastic. You're no use to anyone dead."

She wraps her arm around my neck and hugs me tightly, but carefully to avoid injuring my arm. She doesn't say anything but just keeps a hold of me. There is silence in the barracks. I'm not sure, but I think she is determined to hold onto me forever.

"I don't want to lose you Mac." She whispers to me.

"I know, but this has to be done."

_Good? Bad? Either way, tell me what you think._


	9. Desperate Measures

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_As always, thank you all for the kind reception. Here is Chapter 9. Enjoy._

**Chapter 9: Desperate Measures**

The night air which used to be filled with all the tensions befitting a prisoner camp no longer has them. The Germans have relaxed their rigorous patrols and decreased the number of night guards. There is really no need to be so vigilant anymore. After all, the Americans haven't given them any trouble since Captain Kressing put them in their place. The Germans are practically giddy now. They know their country is in trouble in the wider war, but here at Camp Percival, they are on top.

At least, that is what Private Schrader thinks. A young soldier, Schrader is stuck this evening with one of the most boring jobs in the camp; guarding the garage. The only incident that has occurred in this place was when the American was caught trying to sabotage their jeeps. Captain Kressing, who Schrader admires as a tough commander, he set that American in place. Schrader walks to the end of the building and turns around, beginning to essential pace but mask it as marching. Maybe he'll get some schnapps when he gets off his shift.

Unfortunately for Private Schrader, he doesn't get the chance to complete his patrol. Something crashes into the back of his head, rendering the Private unconscious. Two hands grab his feet and drag him away.

***

I got lucky. The German didn't see me and it only took one hit to knock him out. I didn't want to kill him. If anyone dies during this, God knows what Kressing will do. Moving quickly, I take off the German's coat and put it over mine. I also take his cap. At a distance, and with only a sliver of a moon in the sky, I look like a German soldier.

Quietly, I head into the garage and find what I'm looking for, a priceless commodity for what I'm planning, an oil drum. Even luckier for me, the drum is not filled to the brim, making carrying it relatively easy.

I head out of the garage with the oil drum as fast as I can without making too much noise, avoiding spotlights and patrols. I planned this over a couple of days, going out at night to observe everything; when the patrols change shift, how many guards there are, even what night would have least amount of moonlight to better my chances at concealment. There is a reason for all this careful detail and planning; this is really my only shot at making this work. Not only does this need to work, but my men and Kressing need to know that is me who was behind this. I know I'm taking a huge gamble in trying to play with Kressing; the man is a monster, and if he has time to think of something instead of just react, it could be very bad.

But, I'll worry about that once this is done. Right now, I have to give the Germans a headache and cause a little chaos.

***

Back in his barracks, Danny Messer tries once again to fall asleep. Tonight, he is determined to rest and break the hold insomnia has over him. He has tried rationalizing to himself; they would have tried no matter what he said, he's still alive, there is still a chance, etc. He doesn't really believe it, but he finds that it is helping him at least get to sleep.

Messer is about to drift off to sleep when suddenly, a massive explosion pierces through the quiet night. Like everyone else, Messer hurries out of bed and heads out into the door to see what is going on.

Outside, a great fireball lights up the sky. One of the buildings in the camp is engulfed in flames. The Germans are shouting at each other and running towards the burning building. On top of the building, the red Nazi flag is quickly being turned to ashes. Messer can't tell which building it is, so he decides to get a closer look. The heat becomes greater and greater the closer he gets. Messer wipes some of the building sweat from his forehead when he thinks he sees what looks like a German soldier running away from the burning building, but also trying to keep out of sight. What's even weirder, they don't have a full German uniform; the cap and coat are German but the trousers and boots look American. Messer understands what is going on; one of their guys must have set fire to the building. _Idiot_ he thinks _dumb bastard is going to get himself killed_.

***

I race back to the garage. The auxiliary communication building is now a roaring inferno. I chose it because it was isolated and I discovered through my late night reconnaissance that there is no one in the building at night. I made it very clear that it was an act of arson. The cigarette that I used to light the fire is still there along with the now burning oil drum. In addition to torching the building, I hope I also get rid of some of the Kraut's radio equipment. That stuff isn't easy to come by and if the Kraut's happen to lose some of it during my act of sabotage, well so much the better.

I make it back to the garage. I'm lucky again; the guard who I knocked out is still unconscious. Working as quickly as I can, I take of his coat and hat and put them back on him. Being caught in part of a Kraut uniform would be a death sentence, even for me. That task being complete, I had to where the rest of my men are standing, watching the Germans fruitlessly try and fight the flames. Captain Kressing is out there, shouting at his men, ordering them to continue trying to tame the fire.

***

In the town of Umberetto, a short distance from Camp Percival, the citizens, normally asleep at this hour, are up and watching with a mixture of curiosity and awe at the orange sky in the distance. They know it is coming from the German prison camp, but there has never been anything like this from that place before. People whisper to each other: speculating, wondering, and asking. For days to come, this will be the source of gossip around town.

One citizen however, has a very nervous feeling that she knows what happened. She is also fairly certain she knows who is responsible for it. He hadn't flat out told her what he was going to do, but she knew.

"Oh Mac." She quietly whispers to herself. "Please be careful." Then, Stella Bonasera did something she hadn't done in a long time. She prayed, honestly, sincerely, she prayed.

It was all she can do.

***

The sun began to rise in the eastern sky and with it, a cloud of smoke coming from Camp Percival. Along with the foul smell of burnt wood and charred radio equipment, there is tension in the air that could be cut with a knife. Once again, Kressing has assembled everyone in the camp.

Kressing is pacing back and forth in front of the Americans. "Who caused this?" He howls, rage and fury clearly marked throughout his face and voice.

I take a deep breath and step forward.

"Major Taylor?" He looks at me confusedly.

"I did it Captain. None of these other men knew anything about it or had any part in planning it."

Kressing seems taken aback by my confession. If it were anyone else, he would simply shoot them and be done with it. But not me. He thinks I'm too valuable to kill. He seems unsure of what to do. This round, I'm the one who came up with the surprise.

"Alright Major. Since you didn't try and escape but still have made our lives more miserable, I will make your life _very_ miserable. You didn't seem to like the two days of solitary confinement that Commandant von Touffel imposed. I'm going to give you a week. That includes no food. I hope you had a full breakfast because if you starve to death, that is your own fault not mine. Put him in!"

Two of his soldiers escort me to the stockade with the inside cloaked in darkness. The door is locked behind me.

_Hope you like it, more to come. _


	10. Future Plans

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks as always for the very kind reception. Here is Chapter 10. Enjoy._

**Chapter 10: Future Plans**

Commandant von Touffel thoroughly enjoyed his brief trip to Rome. The Italians are utterly miserable as allies in war, but they are the best when it comes to the finer things in life. The Commandant had been only mildly upset when he had to loosen his belt after the delicious meals that he had consumed while in the Italian capital. He had even met Foreign Minister von Ribbentrop, who had come to Rome in theory for trying to help prop up Mussolini and his Fascists. In reality, the Von Touffel found the Foreign Minister enjoying the wine of Rome more than the company of any Fascists. Von Touffel himself had almost no interest in politics. In fact, he thought the Nazi's were little more than street thugs when they first came on the scene. However, they were now in charge and he was just a soldier; he would obey their orders. After all, Prussian officers don't disobey their orders, no matter who is in charge.

Lieutenant Schmidt, the Commandant's driver, pulled up to the gates of Camp Percival. All the soldiers not on duty are present to welcome their commander back. At the head of the soldiers is Captain Kressing. The Captain had informed von Touffel of what has been going on. The Commandant doesn't really approve of the Captain's methods, but they are effective and in the end, that is what really matters. At least, that is what matters to von Touffel's superiors.

Commandant von Touffel looks over at the Americans. He knew that four of them had been executed by Captain Kressing, but there seems to be something out of place. The Commandant can't put his finger on it, but something feels wrong.

The car stops and Captain Kressing opens his door and gives him a salute. Von Touffel preferred the old salute, before the Nazi rise to power, but he doesn't pay it much attention.

"Heil Hitler! Welcome back Commandant."

"Thank you Captain. What happened here yesterday?"

"Unfortunately Sir, we had an incident last night."

"What incident?"

Kressing clears his throat. "Well Sir, one of the Americans set fire to our auxiliary communications building. It was completely destroyed along with the equipment inside. Luckily no one was hurt."

"Who was responsible for this?"

Captain Kressing looks directly at the Commandant. "Major Taylor took full and sole responsibility for the sabotage."

The Commandant swears under his breath. "You didn't kill him did you Captain?" von Touffel looks at Kressing skeptically.

The Captain shakes his head. "No Sir. Following your lead, I placed him in solitary confinement for seven days without food."

Von Touffel sighs and rubs his hand on his face, trying to formulate his reaction. While he usually has little use for Kressing or his brutality, in this instance, the Captain may be right.

"Captain, I will not change the punishment you gave the Major. Changing it now would show dissension in our ranks, which I will not tolerate. However, I want it guaranteed that the Major gets adequate water every day; at least a pitcher of water daily as well as a toilet of some kind. If the Major dies of starvation well that is unfortunate, but I will not have him die of dehydration. Am I clear Captain?"

"Yes Sir."

***

"What the hell was the Major thinking?" Messer explodes. In truth, he is feeling anger more than anything about what Major Taylor did. It just made no sense. "That was so stupid! He's lucky Kressing didn't shoot him then and there!"

"The Major isn't an idiot Corporal." Flack replies.

"Yeah, well he sure as hell acted like it."

"Oh really? And it isn't like you've never done anything stupid Messer. After all, trying to escape so many times from that other camp was very rational." Flack responds in a clearly irritated voice.

"The difference is I wasn't dealing with a lunatic like Kressing." Messer's voice starts to rise.

"And you think Major Taylor didn't consider that when he planned this?"

"It was damn selfish of him. What if he had gotten someone else killed? Kressing already killed Weems, Grant, Smith and Davis. What's to stop him from shooting any of us because the Major did something stupid?" Messer is almost shouting now.

"Back down Corporal, actually give your CO the benefit of the doubt. He gives it to you." Flack says through gritted teeth. The other three of them: Hawkes, Hayes and Ross keep glancing at each other, trying to see which of them will prevent Flack and Messer from coming to blows.

The two men continue to argue, their voices rising in anger. Finally, Messer pushes Flack while they are yelling. Quickly, Hayes and Hawkes rush over to pull them both back before a full-fledged fight breaks out.

In a moment filled with tension, Ross speaks up.

"I don't know why Major Taylor did that, but _I know_ he must have had a good reason."

Messer is about to argue when Ross glares at him. The intensity coming from the normally quiet mechanic keeps Messer quiet.

Ross presses on. "Major Taylor, he saved me. He offered to be shot in my place. I would have been killed by Kressing if it wasn't for him. He saved my life. I trust him."

Silence fills the air. Both Flack and Messer appear to have cooled down.

Messer takes a deep breath and looks at Flack. "Look, I'm sorry Don." He extends his hand. "No hard feelings."

Flack watches Messer closely and then reaches out to shake the extended hand. "No hard feelings Danny."

"Everybody friends again?" Hayes asks.

The two men shaking hands nod.

"Good. Now, the bigger question; what do we do about the Major's condition?"

Hawkes offers his insights. "The human body can last at least seven days without food. A person as strong as Major Taylor can definitely make it as long as he gets water."

"What will he be like when he gets out doc?" Ross asks with some nervousness.

"He'll be weak, very weak. If he can do something simple like walk I would be surprised. It's his mind that I'm more worried about."

"What do you mean?" Hayes asks.

"Major Taylor is going to be spending seven days in what I think is total darkness. He'll have nothing to do but think about what has happened, the terrible hunger he is going to be feeling, and anything else that haunts his mind. That is a lot even for a man like the Major."

"So what do we do?" Messer asks in frustration.

"We wait. There is nothing else we can do." Hawkes says simply. Hayes nods in agreement.

Messer shakes his head. "Sorry doc, but we can't just sit around here for a week waiting to see if the Major is okay. We need to be _doing something_."

"Like what?" Hawkes snaps. "You want to try something and get shot Corporal?"

"The Major did!"

Flack steps in. "Look, before we start fighting again, let's think about this for a minute. First off, why would the Major do something like this?"

Each of them ponders an answer to that question.

Hayes has an epiphany. "Remember what Kressing told his men? 'I can't kill this man, he's too valuable.' Major Taylor knows that Kressing was using him against us. He must have done this to try and take that away from Kressing."

"But there are easier ways to do that than torching a whole building. What was that about?" Ross asks.

This time Hawkes is the one with the idea. "He was trying to prove that we can still fight."

"Who was he trying to prove that to?"

"Everyone. Us. The Germans. Hell, maybe even himself."

***

Even though it is not Thursday, Stella makes a trip to Camp Percival. Ostensibly it is to welcome the Commandant back from his trip. In reality, it is to see what happened to Mac. To keep up his trust, she brings Commandant von Touffel a bottle of wine as a welcoming back gift and she can't help but notice how one of the buildings that was there last time is no longer there. It isn't hard for her to connect the dots; orange sky last night, building destroyed, the smell of smoke, and no Major Taylor. He must have burnt it down and is now being punished.

Stella spends most of her time this visit trying to make nice with Commandant von Touffel. She knows the Commandant spent a few days in Rome, so she tries to make idle chit-chat about his trip. She has to keep his trust, particularly after arguing with him about that troublesome American Major the last time around. She can't help herself though, thinking about him, _Mac_, causing these Germans trouble, it makes her smile.

After spending some time with the Commandant, Stella makes ready to leave. One of the American soldiers comes up to her and she is suddenly struck as to how familiar he looks. She remembers seeing him from somewhere. Then it hits her; the photo that the nurse Lindsay had given her. This was the man she was looking for. Stella is so pleased with her discovery that it is a tough blow when he tells her what happened to Major Taylor. _Seven days without food_. The thought of him in that blackened hole, starving, it is a terrible weight on her mind.

On her way back to town, Stella makes two decisions. One, she isn't going to the camp on Thursday. He won't be there to see her, to greet her, and to talk to her. Being that close to him and imaging what terrible things he is going through. She can't bear it. Secondly, she is going to meet with Nurse Lindsay as soon as she can; at least one of them deserves some good news.

_Good? Bad? I really am interested in your opinion. Don't be afraid to send me any comments or reviews. _


	11. The Hand We are Dealt

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly_

_Thanks again for the warm response. Here is Chapter 11. Enjoy._

**Chapter 11: The Hand We are Dealt**

For several days, a strong rainstorm descends on Camp Percival. German and American alike spend most of their time cooped up inside waiting for the weather to improve.

In the mess hall, Sergeant Flack can't help but feel guilty as he eats his lunch. The Major has gone five days without food he tells himself glumly. _Five days_ that number almost screams itself in his head. Flack doesn't think he's gone _five hours_ without something to eat. The thought of the Major literally starving, it gnaws at Flack. He takes a piece of bread and stuffs it into his pocket and makes his way out of the mess hall, ignoring the rain, Flack casually heads towards to stockade…

And immediately feels intense disappointment. There are sentries guarding every corner of the stockade, making going up to it impossible. Kressing or von Touffel or both must be determined to see that the punishment goes on uninterrupted. Flack curses their names as he heads back to the barracks and out of the driving rain.

***

Messer, Ross, Hayes, and once the kitchens are done, Hawkes sit around on the floor of the barracks and play poker. Befitting their different personalities, each man plays the game a little differently. Messer likes to bluff and bet big (big being a whole pack of cigarettes instead of one or two sticks), Ross and Hawkes are more unpredictable, and Hayes is the most conservative player of the bunch. Luckily for the rest of them. The Staff Sergeant is something of a card shark, although he prefers gin to poker.

The game commences with the loudest noise being the lashing of the rain upon the building and not the men inside. This poker game goes as they usually do; Messer lays out a big bet and waits for Hayes to bite. As always, he doesn't. This game though, Hawkes gets on a hot streak, winning three games in a row. Ross tries to hide a smile as he picks up his last card; it's the 3 of hearts. He already has the 2 of Clubs, the 4 of Diamonds and the 5 of Diamonds; a flush.

"I'm all in." The mechanic puts all his chips in the middle. The Private doesn't smoke so he uses some useless German Marks he took off a dead Kraut back before he was captured.

"Me too." Messer puts all his winnings in the pot. He has three of a kind in nines.

"I'm out." Hayes sighs and folds up his cards. He had a pair of Queens and that was it.

"All up to you doc. Or is it just me and Adam?"

Hawkes studies his cards and pushes all his chips into the pot as well. "I'm in."

"Okay boys, show the cards." Hayes says.

Messer puts down his first. "Three of a kind."

Ross smiles. "Sorry Messer, but I'll see your three of a kind and raise you a flush."

"Son of a bitch!" Messer exclaims and the rest laugh.

"What about you doc? Can you beat the flush?"

Hawkes smiles and places his cards down one at a time: the Ace of Clubs, the Ace of Diamonds, the Ace of Spades, the Jack of Clubs, and the Jack of Hearts.

"Full house, aces full of jacks."

"Damn. Good hand doc." Ross congratulates him.

"Not using any of that voodoo magic of yours are you doc?" Hayes ribs Hawkes good-naturedly as he shuffles the cards again.

A new hand is about to be dealt when the door to the barracks opens and Sergeant Flack comes in, thoroughly soaked. Before joining the rest of them, he takes off his drenched jacket and lays it on the floor to try and dry it out.

"Want to be dealt in Flack?" Hayes asks as he finishes shuffling.

"No thanks." The Sergeant has a deep frown imprinted on his face.

"There a problem Sarge?" Ross asks.

Flack pulls the piece of bread out of his pocket. "I tried to smuggle this to the Major, but the Kraut bastards are guarding every side of it. I couldn't even get close."

The Sergeant's story brings the reality crashing back for the rest of them. Two simple words are dredged up from the backs of everyone's mind. _Five days._

The card game continues with much less enthusiasm than it had before hand. 

***

Five days. It's been five days since I've seen sunlight or had a thing to eat. Darkness and pain are now my only constant companions. The constant darkness has unnerved me. The fierce rainstorm that rolled in has not helped. It is a reminder that there is a whole world outside of this place, and only a few inches of material separating it from me. It's frustrating, almost maddening.

Thursday came and went; at least I think it did. It's getting hard to tell what day it is anymore. Stella has probably come and gone and I missed her yet again. This is the second time. I've been in this place twice now when I'd much rather be with her. If she finds out what I did, she'll think I'm a bigger idiot than Mussolini.

I slowly sink down to the floor, causing more pain in my gut. I'm so damned tired. I'm tired of this place and I'm tired of this war. The burden that has been placed on me is so much responsibility, more so than when I was back in the field. Every American in this camp, at least those who are still alive, are looking to me to lead them out of this place. I don't know if I can deal with it all.

I begin to feel myself shutting down. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, which changes nothing in regards to the darkness but does make me feel more at peace. My mind is fiercely debating with itself over the merits of continuing the struggle or giving up all together.

_It's too much, everything. They can't expect one person to be able to do all this_. One side argues.

_Giving up means that Kressing wins. You can't let that happen._ The other side retorts.

_You didn't ask for this. This wasn't what you signed up for._

_You have a duty as an officer in the United States Army to not give up. You have a duty to those men._

_Even if you go through with this, what does it prove? Kressing and von Touffel are still in charge, you are still a prisoner._

_The men need hope; your defiance will help provide it for them._

_False hope is worse than no hope at all. False hope can destroy a man._

_It isn't false hope. You can do this Mac; you can get these men out of here and get revenge on Kressing._

_There you see? False hope. Just give up. No more worries, no more burdens, no more pain or regret or sorrow._ This side starts winning the battle for my soul.

_No! You aren't going through this for you. You are doing your duty to the men you lead and to the country you love. _

_Love. What about Claire? Give up and be with her again forever. _This side pours me sweet nectar which I'm sorely tempted to take.

_Yes think about Claire. What would she say to you if you decided to give up? Think of how disappointed and sad she'll be, knowing that you didn't keep fighting. _

_You can be with her forever…_

_What about Stella? Are you going to abandon her? She is risking her life to help you and your men. Are you going to give up on her like you seem to be giving up on yourself?_

_Just give up..._

"No." I say out loud to myself. My throat is sore and my voice cracks from not being used in almost a week.

_Why not?_

I almost shout this time. "No! I'm not going to quit! These Kraut bastards aren't going to beat me yet!"

It is in that moment, having resolved my own internal argument that I come to a realization, one I had found out earlier, but had forgotten. We don't always get to choose our own circumstances, but we do have to deal with them nonetheless. Wishing them away doesn't make it so.

Just for a moment, I feel some of my waning strength returning to me. _No_ I think to myself _these bastards aren't getting rid of me this easily_.

_Good? Bad? Either way, I'd love to hear your opinion._


	12. The Defiant Walk of Mac Taylor

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks as always for the very warm response. Here is Chapter 12. Enjoy. _

**Chapter 12: The Defiant Walk of Mac Taylor**

It's been seven long, miserable days; certainly some of the worst in my life. The terrible, stabbing hunger that I initially felt has been reduced to a horrible, dull, constant ache. It feels like someone is constantly sitting on my stomach. I've had to adjust the belt for my trousers at least once and I'll probably have to tighten it once more due to weight loss. I consider myself to be pretty physically fit for a man my age, that's gone. I'm so weak I can't even stand up and that's a big problem. If I am more or less dragged out of here, looking like the starving shadow that I've become, my men will just feel worse and this whole exercise would have been a colossal, painful waste of time. I won't have that. My goal is to be able to walk past my men and that bastard Kressing with my own strength and on my own two legs.

For the last few hours in this dark hell, I do nothing but try to stand up and walk. It's frustrating, painful and mostly a failure. Almost every time I try to get up, I fall back to the ground, my legs too weak to support the rest of my body. I keep tying; again and again I struggle to get to my feet. Even when I do manage to get up, walking is even harder. My legs can't seem to balance my weight properly. It takes every ounce of my physical and mental strength to keep trying and keep going. Finally, to preserve my remaining strength, I simply let myself collapse to the floor and rest, waiting for the moment.

The time has passed by quickly once I gave myself this task. It isn't long before the door is opened and the bright daylight pours in and blinds me. The silhouette of one of the German guards appears in the doorway and walks over to me. He makes a motion to grab my arm but I waive him off, intending to do all of this myself. I pray I'm up to the task.

My legs stiffen in protest as I stretch them out and begin to put the weight of the rest of my body on them. They creak like those of a man twice my age. I force myself up, using all my will power to keep going. The German guard has taken a few steps back, deferring to me, probably waiting to laugh at my probable failure. I grit my teeth together and finally stand fully erect. Now, I lift my right leg up ever so slightly and place it in front of me, and then I take my left leg and place it in front of the right one. Slowly but surely I begin to walk. Even more significant, I'm doing it without grabbing onto the wall or using anything to support myself. I make my way towards the door and the outside. _This time head towards the light_ I say to myself, appreciating the irony.

My eyes adjust once again to a world of sunlight. Outside of the stockade, everyone except the Commandant, is waiting for me; Kressing, my men, Kressing's men. I continue walking and no one makes a sound. Every eye is fixed on me but I look straight ahead. There is Kressing. I harden my gaze and continue moving towards my barracks.

Kressing has the look on his face of both curiosity and contempt for me. I glance around and look at the other Germans and they themselves are wearing odd expressions; some shocked, but in a few I detect a fleeting sense of admiration. My own men look more stunned than anything. With them, it's hard to read anything beyond that simple emotion.

Finally, finally, I make it to my barracks where the door is open and Doc Hammerback and Doc Hawkes are waiting. Doc Hawkes reaches out to help me but I hold up my hand to make him stop; I've come this far, I'm going to finish this. The uncomfortable cot that normally serves as my bed comes into my line of sight. I struggle to make it over there and when I do, it takes my remaining strength to slowly maneuver myself onto it instead of just collapsing. I feel like I'm losing my focus and maybe consciousness, the effort taking everything out of me.

"Major." Doc Hawkes tries to get me to focus. It's damn hard.

"Dying?" I ask the doc.

Doc Hammerback offers a slight smile. "No, not yet Sir."

"Good." I try to smile but it comes up as nothing but a grimace.

"Major." Hawkes repeats "I know you are exhausted, but you need to eat something; you are starving as it is. I brought you a small piece of bread from the kitchen. Careful, don't eat it too fast, otherwise your stomach won't be able to handle it."

I take the bread from Doc Hawkes and resist the temptation to devour it all at once. Instead, I break off several small pieces of it and take slow, measured bites. Nothing I've ever eaten has tasted so good, but the doc is right. After a few bites, I can't eat anymore. I still don't hear anything outside, but I'm too tired to focus much attention on it. My strength finally leaves me as I succumb to my body's overwhelming need to rest.

***

The way that Major Taylor looked when he came out of the stockade, it stunned everyone. For the Major's core team, seeing him like that left them speechless. Their commanding officer looked awful in every sense of the word. He was far too thin, damn near skeletal. His clothes now hung loosely off his now bony frame. These same clothes had fit him perfectly only a week earlier. His skin was very pale from a week with no sun. His face was gaunt; his eyes sunk back into his head, a weary and haggard expression firmly affixed to them. His gait was terrible, a slow walk that was practically a limp. His arms, one of them no longer in a sling, hung uselessly at his side. The curling of his fingertips was the only indication that those arms actually worked. The walk had required him to use so much energy that he hadn't said a word. His breathing was short and labored. Physically he was a weak man near starvation.

But there was something else there. Behind his awful appearance, something intangible was there. They could see it in his eyes; it was his spirit. His spirit, it remained. The week in the stockade had nearly destroyed his body but it hadn't crushed his spirit.

The Germans had expected to see the commander of these Americans finally brought to heel. Kressing thought that this would finally break all of them. Instead Major Taylor resisted the Germans in one of the simplest, yet most profound of ways; he hadn't broken. They hadn't beaten him yet.

To the Americans, watching their abused and scarred commander make his defiant walk, it stirred something inside them. A small flame, one that had been all but extinguished, started to burn bright once again. The Americans had won this round and they may have reached a tipping point; Captain Kressing's plan had failed.

The Americans had hope once again.

_Good? Bad? As always, if you have an opinion on this, I'd love to hear it. I have to admit though that I really enjoyed writing this chapter._

_A note; I'm going out of town for a few days so Chapter 13 might take a little longer to post than what has been the norm. Don't worry though; it will be up before the end of the week. Stay tuned._


	13. Another Rendezvous

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Well folks I found some time on my trip to write this chapter. Thanks as always for the great response. Here is Chapter 13. Enjoy._

**Chapter 13: Another Rendezvous**

Once again, Stella finds herself on the way to San Giovanni's Church.

As always when she enters the holy building, she finds that has been emptied for her. The only priest at the church, Father Immanuel, was another member of the Resistance. His brother had been beaten up and thrown in jail by the Black Shirts, turning the previously apolitical priest into a fierce opponent of fascism. San Giovanni's is whispered around the area as a place where those who oppose Mussolini, his Fascists, and their German puppeteers can find refuge. Of course when confronted with such notions, Father Immanuel doesn't deny them, he just shrugs and offers the smallest of smiles.

This time when she enters the church, it is her companion, Nurse Lindsay, who is here first.

"I hope God is with you my sister." Stella says her line.

"I hope God is with you as well." Lindsay says in response.

"Any news Stella" the nurse looks at her intently.

"Yes, both good and bad. What do you want to hear first?"

"The bad. Let's get it over with."

"Here it goes. Captain Kressing, the camp's second in command, shot and killed four GI's trying to escape."

"Oh no." Lindsay's heart skips a beat. _Danny._ Knowing him, Lindsay has a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. _He might not even be there_ she tries to reassure herself.

She tries to mask her nervousness and move ahead with their business. "Anything else on the bad news front?"

"Yes. Major Taylor, the top American in the camp, he retaliated against the Germans by burning down their auxiliary communications building."

"But isn't that good news?"

"It would be, but the Major confessed to it and was sentenced to a week in solitary confinement with no food."

"How long has it been?"

"Eight days." The number is imprinted on her soul. _Eight days._ _He got out yesterday._

"Are you going to go see him?" Lindsay asks.

Stella nods her head. "Yes, right after we done with this meeting." She knows that she has to. She doesn't want to, but she has to. She doesn't want to see him and what he must look like after seven days through hell. It is going to break her heart to see him like that, but she has to do it.

"Okay, so that's the bad news. What about the good?"

Remembering what she had intended to tell Lindsay, Stella's lips curl into a soft smile. She pulls out the photo that Lindsay had given her several weeks before.

"I found him." She hands Lindsay back the photo.

"Where? How?" Lindsay asks excitedly. If Stella says she's found him, than that means…

"He is at Camp Percival. Alive and unhurt."

Lindsay feels the nervous trepidation melt away. _Alive and unhurt_. That was a phrase she herself had used when telling Jessica Angell about the fate of her own love.

"It's so good to hear that. Thank you for telling me Stella." Lindsay says with clear gratitude.

"Glad to have helped."

"What about you Lindsay? Any news?"

"Yeah I've recruited someone who can help us. She's an American singer named Jessica Angell."

"How is she going to help us?"

"The OSS is forging a passport for her under the name 'Isabella Fernandez'. She will be a citizen of Franco's Spain and she is going to sing for the German soldiers at Camp Percival. At that time, she'll be smuggling in some equipment that the men need to escape from the camp. Even better, the man she loves in one of the soldiers at the camp, Sergeant Flack."

"That's good; at least they'll get to see each other. Are there new developments on any Allied advances?"

Lindsay shakes her head. "No, unfortunately not. It looks like the front has stabilized now."

Stella frowns. "That's not good. The Allies must be stalled."

"From what we're hearing, the Germans have dug in pretty deep. Don't worry though; I'm sure we'll find a way to break through."

Stella doesn't necessarily agree with Lindsay's outlook but can't help but be cheered by her optimism.

The church bell tolls, signaling the turn of the hour. Both of the women know that their meeting can't last any longer.

"We need to have one more meeting before your friend Jess comes into Axis territory, just to make sure we are clear on the plan." Stella says to her companion.

Lindsay nods. "Right. We are almost ready. She's a quick study and will be a great asset."

"I hope you're right."

***

Stella heads from San Giovanni's directly to Camp Percival. A nervous feeling has been bothering her since she left San Giovanni. The closer she comes to the camp, the worse it gets. Her thoughts keep drifting back to what she thinks he will look like. _A skeleton, with a look of desperation in his eyes. _She shudders at the thought.

The German soldier who lets her in the camp tells Stella that Captain Kressing and Commandant von Touffel are having a meeting. That's actually good in Stella's opinion. The guards believe she is a friend of the Commandant, so they pay her little mind. Only Kressing and von Touffel would bother her.

Stella finds her way up to the barracks where she had met him before he committed his act of sabotage. She remembers what they were both like then; his mind already formulating his grim task, her determined not to lose him. She remembers hugging him and wishing she had never let him go. She swallows her nervousness and her reservations and heads in.

Her heart breaks at what she sees. He is in bed, fast asleep, and he is in terrible shape. She had never seen someone look at that thin or weak. Stella heads towards the bed. An older man with glasses, who introduces himself as Doctor Sid Hammerback, is carefully monitoring the Major's condition.

"How is he Doc?" Stella asks him earnestly.

"He's still very weak. He's been asleep almost since the moment he walked out of that hole."

"He walked out?" Stella asks incredulously. "Wouldn't he be too weak to do that?"

Sid looks directly at her. "It was one of the incredible things I've ever seen Ms. Bonasera. He walked from that stockade." He points to the building across the way. "To here without any help or assistance. He looked even worse yesterday, but he did it. Everyone in the camp was shocked and except for Kressing, they had at least some sense of admiration for him."

Stella finds herself feeling the admiration that the men in the camp must have felt yesterday. She runs her hand through the sleeping Major's hair.

"Doc, he's burning up." She tells Doc Hammerback with concern evident in her voice.

"If you don't mind helping a bit, please dip this rag into the bin of water and place it on his forehead."

Stella does what the doc asks of her. She places the cool, damp rag on the Major's forehead. She brushes her hand across the Major's, her heart pained at how bony even those are. He's so thin.

"Has he been eating?" She asks.

"Every time he wakes up, which isn't very often, I've forced him to eat something. Even if it isn't much, at least it's something. His stomach still can't handle a lot of food but I've kept him eating."

"Good. How long until he is back to normal?"

The doc looks at her intently "it could take a while. He got this way in a week; I'd estimate it takes him longer than that for him to recover."

Stella leans closer to the doctor while still touching her hand to Mac's. She wants to keep the sensation of him with her as long as she can.

"Doc, all of you need to get out of this place before Kressing gets anymore ideas. If what the Major did was as profound as you say, then Kressing and von Touffel will have to come up with something else to try and keep everyone in line."

The doc has a curious look on his face. "What are you planning?"

"I can't tell you now, just make sure he gets better."

"He's a fighter, no doubt about it. He'll be fine ma'am."

She runs her hand through his hair once more and kisses him on the cheek.

"Yes, he's going to be fine." She says with conviction.

_Good? Bad? Either way if you have an opinion about this, I'd love to hear it._


	14. The Old Woman and the Butcher

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_I can't thank you all enough for the very warm response this has been getting. It's truly humbling. Here is Chapter 14. Enjoy._

**Chapter 14: The Old Woman and the Butcher**

Commandant Albrecht von Touffel and Captain Hans Kressing commence with their rather heated meeting. The subject of the meeting is no real surprise; how to deal with the Americans. Both the Commandant and the Captain have renewed frustrations with their prisoners and with each other. Von Touffel is getting tired of Kressing's brutality and Kressing is sick of his commander's weakness. The majority of their anger though, is directed not just at the Americans, but at one American in particular; that damned stubborn Major Taylor.

"Herr Commandant, I'm begging you Sir, just shoot the Major and be done with him. Otherwise he will cause no end of trouble." Kressing implores.

Von Touffel waves his hand dismissively. "That is your answer to everything Captain 'shoot them'. No wonder that Staff Sergeant we use as translator calls you 'the Butcher of Bavaria.'"

"I don't care what those Americans think of me Commandant. I _know_ they are afraid of me."

"Major Taylor didn't seem too afraid to burn down my auxiliary communications building. Or to confess it in the open. Or to endure a week in the stockade. Or to walk right past you, even though he was a dirty, pale, starving excuse of a man."

"Until the Major committed his act of sabotage, we had them beaten Sir. They had given up hope. If the Major was killed, they would still be hopeless shadows."

"And your brutal actions probably galvanized the Major to commit said sabotage Captain."

"Our own men are losing confidence in you Sir. For the sake of your own reputation Sir, crack down on these Americans, especially their Major."

"Captain, you are truly blind to the big picture. I will not end this war being called Von Touffel, the monster of Camp Percival. 'The Butcher of Bavaria' may be fine with you, but I will not sully my name or the reputation of my family. We have served our nation honorably since the times of Frederick the Great. I will not squander that because of some damned American."

"Forgive me Sir, but while I may be 'the Butcher of Bavaria' to the Americans, our own men call you 'The Old Woman of Prussia.' Sir my father worked in a brewery all his life. He never made a name for himself OR his family. I won't make the same mistake."

"Touching Captain, that still doesn't answer the question; what do we do with these damn Americans?"

"Sir, as I told you earlier I know what the weakness is of the rest of these Americans; it is their admiration for that damned Major."

"That is all well and good Captain, but what about _him_? What is Major Taylor's weakness? Obviously it isn't lack of food or sunlight."

Kressing ignores the rhetorical jab his commander just shot at him. "What do you propose we do Sir? We can't just ask the Major what his weakness is."

"Of course not Captain. This will require stealth and subtlety, qualities I'm not sure you have."

"Ask me what you want done Herr Commandant and I will get it done. Herr Commandant?"

Von Touffel is looking out the window of his office towards the prisoner's medical barracks. The woman, Stella Bonasera is coming out of it. Why would she need to go in there? It hits the Commandant.

"Captain, I want you or one of your men to shadow Ms. Bonasera. I also want you to find out from one of the other Americans what the Major thinks of her. Use whatever non-lethal means are necessary."

Kressing smiles at the Commandant's orders. The Old Woman of Prussia must be finally getting it.

"You think that the woman is the key Herr Commandant?"

"We will find out Captain. We will find out."

***

Retreating to his own, much smaller office, Captain Kressing mulls how to accomplish his new task. The Commandant gave him quite a lot of latitude to work with. The only stipulation is that Kressing can't kill anyone.

"If I can't kill anyone, then I'll have to get creative." The Captain says aloud.

Kressing then gets an idea. It won't be pretty. In fact, it will be brutal, but it will be effective and he doesn't have to tell Commandant von Touffel how he got his information. In fact Kressing is confident of his plan's success.

The Captain laughs and says to himself with fierce conviction "oh these Americans have no idea. They want a monster; then I'll show them a monster. I'll make sure no one in this camp EVER forgets the Butcher from Bavaria."

***

Private Adam Ross finished his lunch slower than the rest of the prisoners. He had learned as a kid to take his time and enjoy his meals. Not that he would ever say this to his face, but ever since Doc Hawkes was sent to the kitchens, Ross has noticed an improvement in the quality of the food. The Doc is actually a pretty good cook.

After finishing the last bit of food, Ross heads out of the mess hall and is confronted by two Kraut guards. Without warning, one of them hits Ross in the gut with his rifle. He buckles over in pain and the other guard grabs his arms and leads him away, to another building in the camp that Ross has never been in. Inside it is another guard and far more dangerous, Captain Kressing. The mechanic feels a terrible sense of dread and tries to avoid looking at the man who almost killed him.

Surprising to him, Kressing starts talking to him in a calm, cool voice. "Private I hope my guards didn't hurt you too much when they came to collect you. Rest assured that wasn't my intent."

Ross is puzzled and still very nervous.

Kressing continues talking. "Actually Private, I was hoping we could help each other. This is very simple; I need information, you give it to me, and I'll make sure your visit here in Camp Percival is more comfortable."

"What…what kind of information?" Ross asks nervously.

"I need information about that Italian woman; Stella Bonasera. Do you know anything about her?"

Ross shakes his head. What is going on?

"Okay, let me rephrase the question; do you know why she was here today?"

Ross again shakes his head. Kressing is being unusually calm and collected. Maybe the Commandant chewed him out?

"Who amongst you Americans does she talk to when she comes here?"

Ross is pretty sure that the Captain knows the answer to that question. Is he testing him? He shakes his head again.

After that last denial, the calm demeanor that Kressing had masked himself with vanishes. The Captain now has the same look in his eyes that he had when killed Weems and Grant.

"You are lying to me Private! Everyone knows who that woman talks to! I was testing to see if you would cooperate and you won't. So be it!"

Ross finds his eyes are drawn to the knife now being held by Kressing.

"I'll give you one more chance Private. Tell me what I want to know or I will start with your left side and take off a finger or toe every time you don't answer my questions to my satisfaction. Do I make myself clear?"

Ross nods quickly. He has no doubt that Kressing will make good on his threat.

"I'm glad you understand. Now, I'll ask again; is there anything between that woman and any American soldier in this camp?"

Ross swallows his nervousness. His options are terrible; either betray one of his own, or face the wrath of Kressing. He decides to stall for time.

"What will happen to the person if I tell you?"

Immediately, Ross realizes he made a mistake. Kressing draws his Luger and points it at his head.

"If YOU don't tell me, I'll kill you right now you stupid American. If the next words out of your mouth are not an answer to my question, I'll simply take off your fingers and toes and shoot you. ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

He has no choice. Deeply ashamed, Ross knows he has to give Kressing what he wants.

"She… Ms. Bonasera spends her time with Major Taylor. That's where she was today. The last time she was here, I saw her hugging him for a long time. They care about each other." Ross says it quickly to get this disgusting betrayal over with.

Kressing's face reverts to the calm demeanor he had earlier. Mercifully for Ross, the knife and the Luger are put away.

"Thank you Private. You have been most helpful." Kressing barks out an order to one of his men, who hits Ross in the head with his rifle, knocking the American unconscious. The guards and Kressing leave him in the building and head out. Kressing orders the others to go back to their regular duties while he goes up to the American medical barracks. Sticking his head inside, Kressing spots his sleeping nemesis, alone; he heads up to the bed and snorts in contempt at the American.

"Enjoy your rest Major. For a moment, I thought you had me. I'll admit it, I was concerned when you made your little walk, but that's over. I found your men's weakness, and now I've found yours. You really should be more discrete around women Major. Otherwise they could be the death of you."

_Good? Bad? Any way you feel about this chapter or my story in general, I'd love to hear it. _


	15. The Good Book

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_As always thanks for all the kind reviews and everything else. Here is Chapter 15. Enjoy_

**Chapter 15: The Good Book**

"Staff Sergeant this came in for you from the Red Cross. Sorry, but I'll only let you have the book. I don't trust a translator with a writing instrument" Kressing says.

Hayes looks at the item given to him; a Lutheran Bible. It's small, portable and best of all, completely in English. The pen he had requested wasn't completely necessary; it would have just been a nice addition.

"This is fine. Thank you Captain." It makes Hayes's skin crawl to say thanks to Kressing. The Captain turns to leave and Hayes glares at him, a look of utter loathing on his face. Hayes decides to head back to his barracks.

Once in the barracks, he quickly gets to work. Hayes first offers a small prayer, asking God to forgive him for desecrating His sacred book. Then, he takes out a knife he stole from the kitchen and searches throughout the Bible. Hayes thumbs through the various books; Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy looking for what he needs. A number here, a couple of letters there, maybe even a full word in some cases. Carefully, Hayes starts making a mental checklist of what might come in handy later on.

***

Private Ross shakes himself out of his unconscious daze. A throbbing headache hinders his ability to think. His memory starts returning to him. _Kressing. Questions. Major Taylor. Ms. Bonasera._ Ross scrambles to his feet. Unfortunately, he tries to get up too fast, making him even dizzier. The mechanic ignores these problems and rushes out of the building heading to the medical barracks. Ross is so focused on his goal that he doesn't see Corporal Messer and collides right into him.

"Ow! Damn it Adam watch where you are going!" Messer says as he picks himself up.

"Sorry. I'll make it up to you later. I have to go." Ross pants, out of breath and clearly in a hurry.

"What's wrong Adam?" Messer called everyone by their first name, except maybe the Major.

"I need to talk to Major Taylor, now." Ross says with earnestness.

"Last I saw he was still asleep."

"Well we need to wake him up this is serious."

Puzzled but curious, Messer follows Ross to the medical barracks.

Doc Hammerback is monitoring Major Taylor who appears to still be sleeping.

"Doc we need to wake up Major Taylor. It's urgent."

The older man turns to Ross with a stern look. "Sorry Private but the Major is still not in good shape. It would be best if he would be allowed to sleep.

"Doc this is a matter of life and death. I need to tell the Major."

Hammerback looks at the intensity look that Ross has. "Fine Private, wake him up, but be quick."

Ross begins to nudge his commander, trying to get him up.

***

Damn I'm tired. It's been almost three days since I've been out of stockade and I've slept most of the time, but the fatigue will not leave that easily. Both Doc Hawkes and Doc Hammerback have been forcing me to eat something when I wake up, which has helped bring down some of the pain in my stomach.

Now Private Ross, Doc Hammerback and Corporal Messer are standing around me. Ross has a grave look on his face.

"What's going on?" I ask groggily as I try to get myself awake.

"Before anyone says anything, eat this Major." Doc Hammerback hands me a roll and some warm soup. It isn't much, which disappoints me, but Doc Hammerback has insisted that I need go about eating in a slow step-by-step way. I know why both docs are doing this to me, but it is frustrating.

"What is the problem?" I ask between sips of the soup.

Ross looks nervous and starts speaking very quickly. "Sir, Kressing threatened to do terrible things. I had no choice. I'm so sorry Sir. I didn't want to do it."

"Calm down Private. What exactly happened?"

He takes a deep breath and starts speaking at a more normal speed. "Okay, I was leaving the mess hall when two of the guards forced me into a shed and Kressing threatened me Sir. I had no choice."

"Threatened you about what Private?" I ask clearly, readying myself for whatever may come.

"He wanted information from me about Ms. Bonasera Sir."

"What about her?" I say quickly. This is bad, very bad.

"Kressing wanted to know what the relationship was between you two. I told him that you two cared for each other. I'm so sorry Sir."

Ross's words hit me like a punch. It must show on my face because the young Private has the same terrified look on his face that he had after I saved him from Kressing.

"What does this mean Major?" Messer asks me.

"It means that Kressing will try to use her to get to me. We have to warn Stella before Kressing gets to her."

"How are we going to do that?" Doc Hammerback asks quietly.

I throw off the blanket. "I've got to warn her."

Doc Hammerback moves to stop me. "Whoa, easy Major. You are in no position to be doing anything but resting and rebuilding your strength."

"Doc he could be on his way to kill her as we speak. I have to get to her."

"Major you can't. You are physically unable to do anything. I'm sorry."

"Stella may die because of me! I'm not going to sit around and let that happen!" I yell at Doc Hammerback, my patience exhausted. The fatigue I feel is helping to blacken my mood.

I move myself to the side of the bed and start to get up. I don't care what Doc Hammerback says, I'm not staying here any longer. Unfortunately for me, I barely stand up before my weak legs give out and I collapse to the floor.

"Major!" The three of them rush over to help me and force me back into the bed.

"Let go of me damn it!" I growl at them.

"Major calm down, this isn't helping anyone." Doc Hammerback says to me calmly. He practically forces me to listen to him. "Sir, you can't just run off as the knight in shining armor. You'll get yourself killed and that won't help Ms. Bonasera. Calm down and think about this."

He's right and I make myself calm down, but I don't feel any better and I'm still angry. Not just about Kressing and Stella, but also my own damned helplessness.

"So what do we do?" I ask in an annoyed tone. If they are going to stop me, they had better come up with a plan.

"We need to warn Ms. Bonasera and get Kressing to focus on something else." Messer says.

"Okay, so how do we do that?" I ask crossly.

The three of them start pondering an answer to this question when another comes in the room; it's Hayes with a pleased look on his face.

"Good to see you are awake Major. I'm happy to say I have good news."

"Well we don't Tom." Messer says and quickly fills him in on what has happened.

"God, what are we going to do?" Hayes asks.

"That's what we're trying to figure out. What was your good news Staff Sergeant?"

"Oh right, well the Bible I requested came in."

Ross looks confused "how is that going to help?"

"There are a lot of different things in the Bible Private. Using a knife I stole from the kitchen, I'll cut out words, phrases, and numbers from the Good Book and we can use it as a way of sending coded messages."

My eyes widen. "That's it."

The rest of them look puzzled. "What what is it Major?"

I look to Hayes. "Staff Sergeant, we can find the words from the Bible that we need to warn Stella of the danger."

"Good idea Sir."

"Only problem is; what if Kressing makes his move against Ms. Bonasera before we have the time to send her a message?" Doc Hammerback asks.

This time it is Ross who speaks up. "From what I could tell when Kressing interrogated me, it felt like he was going to lay low for a bit. He'll probably wait and see how you two interact with each other the next time she comes to the camp. I think we have time Sir."

I try to garner some hope from Ross's words but I still feel pessimistic about all this. "What if he acts before we have a chance to see her?"

Hayes gives me a sad, resigned look. "I don't think we have much choice Major."

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about this, I'd love to hear it._


	16. Ingenuity and Reassurances

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks once again for all the kind reviews and everything else. Here is Chapter 16. Enjoy._

**Chapter 16: Ingenuity and Reassurances**

Summer comes more fully to Camp Percival. The oppressive heat of southern Italy presses down upon the camp. The German guards visibly sweat as they continue about their duties in full uniform. It is pretty clear that they are experiencing discomfort in the heat. I almost feel sorry for them. Almost.

Ever since Private Ross told me about Kressing and his plans regarding Stella, I've found myself growing more concerned about her. A man like Kressing, no a monster like Kressing, God only knows what he would do to her. If I find out that Kressing does anything to Stella, I will kill him. I don't care how or what the consequences are, but if Kressing lays a hand on her, he dies.

I'm also not getting better quick enough. Now that I know there is potential danger for someone I've grown close to I'm restless. I want to prove Doc Hammerback and Doc Hawkes wrong and get better and beat this now.

So, here I am, sitting on this bed, trying to not feel so damned weak. The weather isn't helping. It is too hot to be in full uniform. My jacket, boots and socks are all off, leaving just my undershirt and pants and still I'm sweating. The soup Doc Hammerback has me eating isn't getting cold anymore which is helping with its taste if not with the heat. The good thing though is that slowly I do feel my strength coming back to me. The terrible pain of hunger that has been a constant, unwelcome part of my life is starting to go away. It will only be a couple of days before I'm back at full strength, I'm sure of it.

I only wish it would happen quicker.

***

In the kitchens, long after lunch has been served, Doc Hawkes toils feverishly on his task. It isn't anything cooking related, washing dishes or the like; Hawkes couldn't care less about his kitchen duties. However, in this instance, being the cook is proving to be invaluable. It gives him full access to a range of materials that the Americans need.

Hawkes started with some of the juices, none of which proved very useful. He then moved onto the greases and they failed too. Hawkes tests out the cooking oils and they don't work. Finally, the solution dawns on him; flour and water. Hawkes has to laugh at himself for not thinking of it earlier. Not only are both available in abundance, but no one will question him being covered in the stuff.

***

At the barracks, Hayes mulls over how to encode the message that Major Taylor needs to give to Ms. Bonasera. The trick is to make the code too complicated for the Germans to understand right away, but also to make it simple enough so that Ms. Bonasera can decode the message.

It takes the Staff Sergeant some time, but he comes up with his code. He starts going through the Bible, finding what he needs. Hopefully Ms. Bonasera is good with codes as she is with deceiving the Germans.

***

Sergeant Flack notices a difference in Private Ross. The younger man no longer seems as happy as he once did; he even seems to be as depressed as he was after the incident when Kressing killed four of their fellow prisoners. With the Major still recovering and Hawkes and Hayes dealing with other stuff, Flack takes it upon himself to help Ross out.

Flack finds the mechanic staring off into the distance, his eyes not really focused on anything. It upsets Flack to see his friend like this.

"Hey Adam." Flack decides to take a page out of Messer's book and just use first names.

Adam doesn't respond. He continues his staring.

"Adam!" Flack says again, louder this time, hoping to actually get his attention.

"Huh? Oh, sorry Sergeant." He mumbles.

"We've been stuck in this camp for over a month; just call me Don or Flack."

"Okay Don. What's going on?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm not convinced. Look Adam, Danny told me what happened and it wasn't your fault."

Ross looks at him angrily. "You weren't there Flack. I should have resisted a little more. Major Taylor went seven days without food to stand up to Kressing and I couldn't last five minutes with him!"

"Major Taylor is also probably the strongest person I've ever met. If that's the standard you're going to measure yourself against, you're probably going to be disappointed."

"But I betrayed the Major and Ms. Bonasera. If anything happens to either of them, it will be my fault."

"No, it will be that bastard Kressing's fault. If I, or Messer or Hawkes or Hayes had been in the same situation, we would have given Kressing what he wanted too."

"Then why does he keep going after me? What did I do to piss him off?"

Flack thinks for a bit before answering. He is inclined to just answer 'because Kressing is a monster', but he suspects that that wouldn't be enough.

"Adam, Kressing wants to try and break everyone's spirit so that we don't try to escape. He probably feels that you have the most spirit so he needs to work harder on you. That's why Kressing goes after you; you won't give up hope."

Something about Ross seems to lighten. His face doesn't have the same morose, sad look that he did before.

"Thanks Don." He says quietly.

"No problem. We're in this together after all."

***

Doc Hammerback feels exasperation at his newest patient; Corporal Messer came down with a summer cold. Just like Major Taylor, Messer refuses to follow medical advice he doesn't believe he needs.

"I'm fine Doc, really. Just let me head back to the barracks. I'm doing nothing useful sitting around here."

"If I let you go, then you'll infect everyone else in this camp and I'll spend all my time telling grown men to blow their noses instead of helping your superior recover."

"That's not fair Doc, I'm not sick."

Of course at that moment, Messer is struck by a sneezing fit. Doc Hammerback can't help but smile a bit.

"Okay Corporal, you are 'not' going to be sick right here. If I have to, I'll put you under quarantine.

"Doc, you are just as bad as the Germans."

Hammerback offers a tired sigh "just do me a favor and be quiet Messer. My time here will be more pleasant without your constant complaining."

Before he can say anything else, Messer has another sneezing fit.

***

Ever since Messer caught his summer cold, I've had some time to myself while Doc Hammerback deals with him. I have to admit that it makes me laugh hearing the two of them go at it; at least the Doc is too concerned right now with keeping Messer under control to deal with me.

Doc Hawkes and Staff Sergeant Hayes come into the medical barracks and Doc Hammerback rushes out of his latest contest of wills with Messer to keep them away.

"Corporal Messer is suffering from a highly contagious illness. It would be best for both of you to keep away from him."

"Don't let him get to you guys. Keep fighting!" Messer yells jokingly from his sick bed.

"Ignore him. Sheldon, I'd thought you of all people would know the importance of staying away from a sick man."

"I do Sid, but we need to talk with Major Taylor." The two of them head over to me.

"Don't worry, I'm still here." I remark dryly.

"If you don't mind me saying Sir but it looks like Doc Hammerback finally has a patient more stubborn than you."

"I doubt that; you two have something?"

"Actually yes we do. I found the perfect way to keep the clippings that Hayes finds in one place. I'll use small amounts of flour and water mixed together from the kitchens and they will help stick the letters to whatever paper we use."

"Good to hear. What about you Staff Sergeant?"

"I've got a simple code that we can use Sir. I'll put it at the bottom of the letter so that Ms. Bonasera can decode it."

"Will the Germans be able to figure it out?"

"If they get a hold of it."

"Are they going to get a hold of it?"

"Not if we are good at our job Sir."

"You two have that letter ready as soon as possible. Stella should be coming by in the next few days."

"We'll have it ready by the time she gets here Sir."

"Good."

_Good? Bad? Whatever you think of this chapter specifically or this story generally, I'd love to hear it._


	17. Cracking the Code

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_ Thanks once again for all the kind reviews, alerts and favorites. They are appreciated. Sorry this took a little longer to post; school got in the way. Here is Chapter 17. Enjoy. _

**Chapter 17: Cracking the Code**

Stella heads to the camp in full hope of seeing Major Taylor progressing in his recovery. Before she had left camp the last time, Doc Hammerback had told her that he was making slow but steady progress. She's glad to hear it. She hadn't told anyone this, but when she was heading back to town after seeing the Major she had cried. Seeing him so weak and helpless, it struck something within her. She didn't want to see him like that again.

Nevertheless, swallowing her own fears, Stella makes her way inside the camp with a present for both Commandant von Touffel and Captain Kressing. The Captain disgusts her, but she has to keep up the appearance of collaboration.

"Ah Frauline Bonasera, welcome back." Kressing says politely. _He's up to something_ she tells herself. Kressing is never nice to anyone without an ulterior motive.

"Thank you Captain. I actually brought something for you." She pulls out a bottle of wine.

"Thank you Frauline. This is a nice gesture." _She's up to something_ Kressing tells himself.

"I also brought one for the Commandant if you would be so kind as to give it to him." She hands him another bottle.

"Of course. I'm sure that Commandant von Touffel will be pleased with it." The Captain turns towards the headquarters to deliver the goods to his commander.

With Kressing distracted, Stella heads towards the prisoner medical barracks. Before she can even enter the building, Doctor Hammerback comes out, looking grim and professional.

"Nice to see you Doctor." She tells him politely.

"Welcome back ma'am."

"How is the Major doing?" She asks with some trepidation.

"He's doing fine, actually better than how he was the last time you came by. He's eating more and sleeping at somewhat normal hours again."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Unfortunately, I can't let you see him."

"Why not?" She asks sharply.

"One of the other soldiers, Corporal Messer, caught an infectious summer cold. The Major and I both don't have it, but as a precaution to keep it from spreading, I'm preventing anyone from coming in."

"Oh." Her heart sinks. She wanted to see the Major, to talk to him, to encourage him to get better. She understands why the Doctor is doing this, but she still is unhappy about it.

Doc Hammerback sees the disappointment on her face and quickly tries to cheer her up.

"The Major did instruct me to give this to you though." He hands her a folded up piece of paper. The Doctor leans in close to her.

"Don't let anyone, especially the Captain or the Commandant see that. It's very important" He whispers to her.

"Do you know what it is?" She asks him quietly.

He shakes his head. "Sorry I don't, but he has been very insistent on getting that letter to you."

_A letter_. She quickly places it in her pocket. A glance out of the corner of her eye and she sees that Kressing is out of the building and heading towards her.

"Thank you Doctor." She tells him as she quickly heads back towards her car.

Kressing has a small smile on his face, which somehow still makes him look sinister.

"The Commandant greatly appreciated your gift Frauline. Now, is there anything else we can do for you?"

"No, I just wanted to give you both the bottles of wine. Thank you for your hospitality Captain.

"Any time Frauline, any time."

***

As he watches that troublesome Italian woman leave his camp, Captain Kressing calls forward one of his men. He's an older soldier, unlike most of the kids that Kressing commands. The other main difference is that this man is dressed in civilian clothes and does not have the blonde-haired, blue-eyed look so distinctive of the Aryan.

"First Sergeant Niepper."

The man salutes. "Yes Herr Captain."

"First Sergeant, I want you to follow that woman. See where she goes, who she talks to, and what she does. You are to shadow her, so no direct confrontation; the Commandant's orders. Whenever she comes back to this camp, you will report to myself and Commandant von Touffel as to what you've found. Am I clear?"

"Yes Captain."

***

Doc Hammerback heads back into the medical barracks. Thankfully for him, Corporal Messer is asleep so the doctor only has only me to deal with. One stubborn patient is easier than two.

"Did she get the letter Doc?" I ask. I need to know. Her life is potentially on the line.

Much to my relief he nods in the affirmative. The Doc sits down in the chair next to my bed.

"Do you think she'll be able to decipher the message Major?" He asks me.

I nod. "She'll get it." I say with the firmest conviction.

***

Stella feels herself surprisingly eager to get back to Umberetto. She is still very disappointed she didn't get to see Major Taylor, especially after hearing about the progress he is making. She can sense that as stubborn as she has found out the Major to be, he will literally force himself to get better as quickly as possible.

Then there is the letter. Why he would take the trouble to gather the materials to smuggle her a letter, is baffling. Either he knew he wouldn't be able to see her, or this was very important.

Stella heads back into town and decides to enjoy the warm weather with coffee at one of the local café's. This was always one of her favorite spots in town. Maybe one day she and the Major can sit out here on a warm day and enjoy coffee together.

She brushes such fantasies away. Right now, she has far more important things to deal with. Stella opens the letter:

_Abxo Pqbiix:_

_ Hobppfkd fp prpmfzflrp lc vlr, eb jfddq yb exsfkd vlr cliiltba. Mibxb yb zxobcri. F alk'q txkq ql pbb vlr dbq eroq._

_ Jxz_

_3 B 4_

"What the hell is this?" She exclaims. This isn't a message at all; it's nothing but random letters pieced together in a bizarre order. Maybe this is the American sense of humor.

She stares at the letter for some time. This has to be either some kind of American joke, or maybe it's a code. That must be it. The Americans were concerned about this letter falling into the wrong hands so they wrote it in code.

"Only question is; what is it?" She comments. She keeps scanning the letter. Everything seems in a normal place except for the last thing in it; 3 B 4. Does 3 equal B or does B equal 4?

She stops herself "Wait a minute. It isn't supposed to be '3 B 4'. It's supposed to be '3 before'. The code must be that each letter is the number three ahead of it in the alphabet."

Excited at her revelation, Stella goes through the tedious process of translating the letter back to it's original form. D's become A's and P's become S's. It takes some time, but on a two of the café's napkins, Stella is able to read the letter she had been given:

___Dear Stella:_

_ Kressing is suspicious of you, he might be having you followed. Please be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt._

_ Mac_

Finishing the letter, she can't taste her coffee right away. _He might be having you followed_. Her mind starts coming up with unpleasant scenarios. What if they followed her to San Giovanni's? What if they know about Nurse Lindsay or Father Immanuel? She gets very uneasy. _I'll have to be even more careful then_. She tells herself.

The other phrase in the letter that sticks with her is the last one _I don't want to see you get hurt_. She is of two minds about that one. First, of course she is very grateful that he is so worried about her. With everything else he has to deal with, being concerned for her is very touching.

The other feeling she has is one of exasperation. _I don't want to see you get hurt_ is coming from a man who burned down a building, impersonated a German soldier, spent seven days in darkness with no food, and nearly broke himself by walking from the stockade to his bed.

"Mac" she says quietly "_I_ don't want to see _you_ get hurt."

With that, she leaves the café and heads home to plan her next move.

_Good? Bad? Either way, if you have an opinion about this chapter, or any chapter, or the whole story in general, I'd love to hear it._


	18. Women at War

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks for the warm response to Chapter 17. Here is Chapter 18. Enjoy._

**Chapter 18: Women at War**

Jess looks at the forged passport that had been made for her. She was given a photo of an authentic one and the two are exactly the same. The black eagle behind the Royal Shield of the Spanish Monarchy with the crown on top of the shield; a perfect match to the passports of the Spanish State.

In the time that she has been on the American base, Jess has come to marvel at the behind-the-scenes influence of the OSS. Initially she was concerned that she would overstay her visit and then have to justify staying in front of some panel of officers. No such panel was convened. In fact, one of the higher-ranking officers had spoken to her saying that the top brass of the base wanted her to stay _longer_ because she seemed to be boosting the moral of the soldiers in the camp. Of course Jess isn't blind; she's noticed the looks all these soldiers are giving her. She's sure they all have their fantasies and ideas, but they aren't for her. Like her new friend Nurse Lindsay, Jess's heart belongs to another. It is for that one man that she is here, in Southern Italy, just a day's march from the front line, preparing to go on an incredibly dangerous mission.

Despite the danger she is going to go into, Jess knows that she is not alone. Nurse Lindsay herself has gone through incredible danger many times since she joined the OSS. Heck, every time she meets with their Italian contact Ms. Bonasera, whom Jess has yet to meet, she is putting herself in danger. Jess believes that she and the nurse are having mutual admiration for the other and everything they seem willing to do to help out the man each of them loves.

Jess's thoughts drift to Don. When she first heard that he was in a POW camp, she was scared for him. Knowing Don, he wasn't likely to take being a prisoner sitting down and the thought of him trying to escape made her even more concerned. But, the more she thought about it, the more Jess is relieved that Don is in a camp. It certainly isn't ideal, but at least in the camp he is away from the front line and in a strange way, less likely to be killed. Even more importantly, she will get to see him soon enough and possibly even help rescue him. For that chance, she'll risk any danger.

***

Before she has a meeting with Jess, Nurse Lindsay finds herself taking out a prized possession. It's a photo of the man she loves. _Love_. It was something that Lindsay had never expected out of this war. She thought that she would serve out the war as a nurse and then head back to Montana to date one of the guys she went to high school with. Then the world went to war and that was how she met him. It was in the deserts of North Africa at the Kasserine Pass. He was grazed by a Stuka dive bomber and ended up in the hospital ward. Out of all the soldiers she had tended to and healed, there was something different about him. They got to talking, and there was no way to deny it; they fell in love. Now, her one goal was to get both of them out of this war alive. Then they could live in either Montana or New York. It didn't matter to here, as long as they were together.

***

As she lay in bed trying to sleep, Stella can't help but think about the camp nearby and the men inside it. More particularly, there is _one_ man who she can't seem to get her mind off of. She fondly remembers the first time she met him; going into the camp to do reconnaissance for the resistance and the OSS meeting the tough American Major who suddenly became shy or even embarrassed around her. He looked away when she was examining him. She can't help but smile thinking of him and how she has become closer to him. He certainly is a risk taker. She knows he has put himself in danger many times on behalf of his men and her. He doesn't think about himself. He plays the quiet hero, the man who does his duty, and she can't help but admire him for it.

Does he care for her in a way beyond friendship? Does she feel that way about him? She isn't sure about the answer to either of these questions. What she does know is that she will do everything within her power to get him out of that camp alive. Even if he doesn't seem too concerned about what happens to him, she does.

***

Far from the front line, far from the bombing, the killing and the slaughter, across the great Atlantic Ocean, four other women have their minds on four men in Camp Percival. Though spread throughout the eastern United States, these four women are all connected in a way that they never would have thought.

In Detroit Michigan, in what the city calls a "colored people's home", really an apartment, an older woman looks at a photo of her son on perhaps the proudest day in their family's memory. In the picture there is a caption "Howard University Medical Class of 1940". Her son is in the front row of the students, grinning broadly. Every time she looks at that photo she can't help but smile; her Sheldon, the first member of the Hawkes family to not only attend college, but to go further and attain a medical degree. Every time friends come over, she and her husband smile and proudly brag about their son.

In Scranton Pennsylvania, a young woman helps her father close up the family drug store. Kendall Novak sees her father trying to fix the car, swearing at it and hitting it in the firm belief that this will make technology work better. Kendall can't help but smile and feel sad at the same time. If her Adam was here, he could have the vehicle fixed up in no time flat. The mechanic she feels something for, he who was so nervous around everyone else, would feel such comfort when he was with her. She feels great joy at being able to give that to him.

Further north in Boston Massachusetts, an older woman listens to the radio before she prepares to go to sleep. Like Mrs. Hawkes, she finds comfort in a photo. It isn't that of her husband's own graduation from medical school, it is one of both of them. They were much younger in the photo. He was in his finest suit, and she was in her white wedding dress. It was many years ago, but Mrs. Hammerback remembers it as if it had happened yesterday. She and her Sid have shared many years of marital bliss and she fervently hopes for many more.

The last of the four women, unlike the other three, resides not in one of America's great metropolises, but rather in the small town, basically the hamlet of DeFuniak Springs, Florida. Her home is surrounded by the orange groves that are so prominent in the state. Also unlike Mrs. Hawkes and Mrs. Hammerback, Mrs. Hayes does not look to a photo for comfort but instead reads a letter. She reads the excitement he feels when discussing how his unit is in Tunisia and he talks of his wish to walk the streets of ancient Carthage. Her Thomas had always been so passionate about history; he badgered both his parents asking them questions that they couldn't answer about people and dates that have long since past. That's why the family had scraped together enough money to send him to college at the University of Florida. Mrs. Hayes hoped there her son would get the knowledge he craved. Now, she only wished for the knowledge that he is okay.

***

Unable to sleep, I lie on my cot, waiting for the next day. There are three women who enter into my mind. The first is my mother; she lived several years in sad widowhood before joining my father side-by-side in eternal rest. In the thick of war, I found myself thinking again about my mother. Every man I've met who is wounded in battle and feels that they are dying calls out to one person, their mother.

The next woman on my mind is Stella. She is… a friend? More than that? I'm not sure and I think she isn't sure either. She has been more than just a connection between those of us in the camp and those on the outside. In every sense of the word, she has been a lifeline. She has placed herself in grave danger to help us. She has also provided me with something invaluable; hope. I don't know if I can repay her for that.

The final woman is the love of my life; Claire. Unlike what happened to my parents, in our case, for reasons known only to God, she is waiting for me instead of vice-versa. In those dark days when I was in the stockade, I could almost feel her presence there with me, comforting me and being there with me. Even now, I _know_ she is watching me, probably shaking her head at my stubbornness and laughing at some of my foolishness. She is my inspiration more than I was hers. It is a comfort of having her with me, along with my mother and Stella. Without them, I wouldn't have made it this far. With them, maybe, just maybe, I can get through this war.

_Good? Bad? As always if you have a comment about this or any other chapter specifically or the story in general, I'd love to hear it._


	19. A Little Freedom and a Gathering Shadow

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks as always for the kind reviews and everything else. Here is Chapter 19. Enjoy._

**Chapter 19: A Little Freedom and a Gathering Shadow**

Finally, after a slow, grinding week and a half, Doc Hammerback lets me out of the medical barracks. He gives me another quick check-up, just to make sure I am sufficiently healed and haven't caught whatever Corporal Messer has. I hadn't. The Corporal is getting better as well and I can't tell who is more relieved by that: Messer or Doc Hammerback.

Heading out of the barracks, I feel the rush of warm air flood over me. It feels great. Hell, just being out of what passes for a hospital feels great. Since I really have nowhere to be, I take a walk through the camp, away from any Germans I find, just enjoying the sensation of being outside. I don't think I could have taken another few days cooped up in bed.

Now that I'm better there really is only one logical question; what next? I've been pondering this since I've been able to take my mind off my own problems. I went through this whole painful experience to get my men motivated once again to want to escape. As far as I can tell, they have that motivation back. Now we just have to use it.

With that in mind, I head towards the regular barracks, a sense of relief coming over me. It is fully hitting home what being out of the hospital means. _I have freedom_ in a very limited sense. If this is what it is like just getting out of the medical barracks, I can begin to imagine what it will be like getting out of this whole camp.

I turn a corner and catch Sergeant Flack smoking a cigarette. The Sergeant's face seems surprised when he sees me.

"Major! You finally got out of the hospital?"

"Doc Hammerback cleared me to leave about an hour to go."

"Great to hear Sir. Welcome back."

"Thanks Sergeant. Where is everyone else?"

"Playing poker."

I wait with Flack while he finishes smoking and we head inside. Sure enough Hawkes, Hayes and Ross are sitting there playing poker. Flack and I come in at the tail end of their game and Hayes lays down his hand; it's a straight flush the 7 through Jack of Clubs. The other two throw down their cards in defeat.

"Damn it Tom, you're too good at this game." Ross says in defeat.

"Now now, I'm just a simple Southern man who gets lucky." Hayes says with a wry smile.

"That's crap and you know it Tom." Hawkes retorts and they all laugh.

"Still cleaning everyone out Staff Sergeant?" I ask, making my presence known.

"Major!" The three of them scramble to get up. They abandon military etiquette and instead of saluting, shake my hand. In this case, I'm willing to set military protocol aside for now.

"Want in on a game Sir? We need someone else to help take down our resident card shark." Hawkes asks as Flack sits down to rejoin the group.

Normally, I would say no. I'm not much of a gambler, and I'm not that great at cards, but after being mostly isolated from everyone for essentially two weeks, I need a change of pace.

"Sure why not." I say and sit down in their group. They all look at me in a surprised way.

"Well, are you going to shuffle and deal the cards Staff Sergeant?" I ask. Hayes seems to suddenly realize he is holding the deck and hastily goes about shuffling and dealing the cards.

While he passes out the cards, I suddenly realize that I don't know how we got a card deck in a POW camp.

"Where did these cards come from?" I ask curiously.

"I was given them Sir." Flack responds.

"From who Sergeant? Kressing isn't exactly the giving type." The rest of them chuckle nervously.

"Actually I got them about a week before you arrived here Sir. Our friend Ms. Bonasera slipped them to me. She told me 'you might need these. It will probably get pretty boring in this camp.'"

"Oh." I say, although part of me isn't surprised. I have no doubt that Stella is more than capable of smuggling in a card deck. Turning my thoughts to Stella, I find myself feeling concerned. I hope she was able to crack the code that we gave her. What if she didn't see the key to the code down at the bottom? What if she deciphered it too late? What if Kressing saw the letter and took it from her? What if he is trying to decipher it?

I must have a worried expression on my face because the others are looking at me intently.

"Major? Sir, it's your turn." Hayes prompts, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh sorry." My eyes had been on the cards but my mind was definitely elsewhere.

"Major, are you alright?" Flack asks with concern.

"I'm fine Sergeant."

I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't believe me.

"Don't worry Sir; she's going to be fine. She's smarter than Kressing or any of the other Krauts." Hawkes tries to reassure me.

I sigh. "You're right doc." I look at my cards. "I'm in."

***

With the weather cooperating, Stella heads to the outdoor market in Umberetto to do some shopping. It is days like these that almost make it seem as if the war is far away, on another continent or in another world and not less than 100 miles from the town.

Trying to put all thoughts about the war in the back of her mind, Stella heads up to the market stall of one of the young men in town, Salvatore. He's about 20, and a bad ear has kept him out of military for which his father goes to church every day to thank God.

"Afternoon Sal." She says with a grin.

"Afternoon Ms. Bonasera. Beautiful day we have here." He says idly.

"It sure is." She examines some of the food that Sal has displayed. She doesn't really need anything, but she decides to buy something anyways to help out Sal and his family.

"Grazie ma'am. Three lira please."

She fishes the money out and hands it to Sal. "There you go, three lira. Tell your parents I said hello. Arrivederci Sal."

"Arrivederci Ms. Bonasera." He waves her off.

Sal watches as Ms. Bonasera heads out. Less than a minute later, a man comes up to Sal's stall. Odd though it seems, but Sal can't place this man. He must not be from around here

"Buongiorno sir; is there something I can help you with?"

The stranger points his thumb in the direction that Stella went off to. "That woman, do you know where she is going?"

Sal shook his head. "No I don't recall sir. Ms. Bonasera likes her privacy."

The man is unfazed by the young man's remarks. He pulls out some money "where does she like to go to often?" He flashes the money in front of Sal's face.

The boy's eyes widen. _Fifty lira!_ Almost no one has that type of money, not since the invasion. This stranger must be very rich. Sal reaches out for the money, but the man pulls it back.

"If you have the information I want, I'll give you half right now."

Sal doesn't consider it for too long. His family is not poor, but a little extra money never hurt.

"There is a little café that she frequently goes to. It's on the next block. That's about it. Like I said, Ms. Bonasera keeps to herself."

The stranger gives Sal the money. The young man quickly takes it before he can change his mind.

"How would you like to earn the next payment of twenty-five lira?" The stranger asks.

"Doing what?"

"For the other half, the next time she comes by, you ask her where she is going. Get her to tell you, and I will come by later and ask. You tell me and the money is yours. Not only that, but if you keep an eye on her for me, I'll keep paying you twenty-five lira. Does that sound like a good deal?"

Sal nods. A steady stream of money just to look out for Ms. Bonasera? What an easy job.

"I'll do it."

"Good boy. I'll keep in touch."

The stranger walks away.

First Sergeant Niepper smiles to himself as he leaves the market. That Italian boy will be his eyes and ears. He still has a few places to spread some money, gaining his own little network of informants. Soon enough, he'll be able to tell Captain Kressing and Commandant von Touffel practically everything the woman does. Niepper will find out what she's up to. It's only a matter of time.

_Good? Bad? Whatever your opinion of this or any other chapter or the story overall, I'd love to hear it._


	20. Plans for a Showdown

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks everyone for the kind reviews, alerts, and just reading. Hope everyone had a Happy Easter. Here is Chapter 20. Enjoy._

**Chapter 20: Plans for a Showdown**

The Germans continue their nightly patrols and the watch tower lights continuously peer out through the forest beyond the fence of Camp Percival. In between lights and patrols, a man dashes from one building to another, dodging any sign of the Germans. Finally he reaches the agreed upon building and knocks softly. He waits a minute before a whispery voice asks a peculiar question.

"What's my hand?"

The other man doesn't hesitate "three of a kind" he says. The door opens and the man outside quickly goes in.

***

With news of the release of Corporal Messer from the hospital ward, the core group of the Americans is back together. The Germans are certain that the Americans are planning their next move, which means that Captain Kressing and Commandant von Touffel are also planning their strategy. In an odd way, the contest between Germans and Americans isn't so much war but instead a game with potentially deadly outcomes.

Trying to think of a way to win the game for his side, Commandant von Touffel sits in his office this night pondering the question. It is clear, at least to him, that Kressing's brutal tactics don't work. Sure, they might have a good shock factor, but Major Taylor proved that it was temporary. However, the relatively light-hand that the Commandant wanted to impose earned him nothing but disrespect from his men, especially Kressing.

The Commandant also finds himself thinking of that Italian woman, Ms. Bonasera. When she had first come to the camp, the Commandant was smitten. With his wife far away in Prussia, he felt he had a little more freedom here in Italy. He hopes to woo her to his side.

Kressing comes into the office, interrupting the Commandant's thoughts.

"Heil Hitler! Herr Commandant I bring news."

"What news Captain?"

"About that woman."

"Speak Captain."

"Yes Sir. I had a conversation with one of the American prisoners and after some … persuading, he told me that something very interesting. Apparently Ms. Bonasera has some feelings for someone. You won't believe who Sir."

"WHO!" The Commandant shouts.

"Major Taylor Sir. From what this American told me, she is probably starting to fall in love with him."

Commandant von Touffel's face smolders with anger. A lie. That damnable woman lied to him and he was blind to it. She used him, manipulated him for her own ends. Worse of all, she played on his feelings while she was pining for another. It burns the Commandant to know that he has lost. Not only did he lose her to another man, but the other man is a filthy American _prisoner_. He should have followed Kressing's advice early on; he should have shot that damned Major and be done with it. The Commandant closes his eyes. _You were a fool Albrecht _he tells himself. No, he won't be made a fool anymore. The days of "The Old Woman of Prussia" are gone.

"Captain." He says slowly.

"Yes Sir?"

"I have been too lenient for too long. As of now, no one from the outside is allowed in this camp without my expressed approval. ESPECIALLY that damned woman. Give her one warning the next time she comes back and after that, shoot her if she comes near this camp."

"Gladly Sir." Kressing says with a smile. The Commandant has finally come around.

"If any of the Americans step out of line, shoot them."

"Of course Sir."

"If that damned Major steps out of line, let me know and I'll shoot him myself."

"Yes Sir!"

"Good, carry out your orders Captain."

"With pleasure Sir."

***

That night, luckily for everyone, Corporal Messer is released from the hospital by Doc Hammerback. Both of them seemed extremely relieved by that fact. I asked both of them, along with the rest of my team to meet that night. We need to talk, to discuss our plan for getting out of this dump.

Flack is the last one to arrive and we all huddle close in the darkness. No lights, candles or anything that would give us away.

"Everyone's here Major." Messer informs me.

"Good. The purpose of this meeting is to plan our escape from this hole. We need to get out of here before Kressing starts getting creative again."

"You have a plan Sir?" Flack asks me.

"Yes I do and it involves all of you. I had a lot of time to try and think of something when I was in the medical barracks."

I turn first to Hayes. "Staff Sergeant I want you to start secretly teaching everyone here German. No the whole language, just enough to talk with the Krauts should the need arise. Don't let anyone else know that you are doing this."

Hayes nods.

Then I look to Flack and Messer "In addition to teaching us German Staff Sergeant, you, Sergeant Flack, Corporal Messer will find German soldiers who you at least slightly resemble. At least find ones that you could pass yourselves off as at night. Shadow them; find out what they do, who they are and most importantly, when it will be easiest to get the jump on them."

"Sure Sir."

Next I turn to Hawkes. "Doc, I want you to build up enough confidence with the Krauts in the kitchen so that they start letting you cook Kraut food. When that happens, tell me and we'll give the Germans a nasty case of food poisoning to take their minds of us. That won't happen until the day we are ready to put our escape into action."

"Got it."

Finally I turn to Ross. "Private, you are going to be Flack and Messer's 'prisoner' and you are going to start up a German vehicle for us. What's going to happen is this. Hawkes gives the German's food poisoning so they will be distracted and dealing with that problem. Flack and Messer will take the place of two soldiers, and they will say they have orders from Kressing to take a couple of prisoners out for execution. The four of you will march right into a waiting car that Ms. Bonasera will have prepared. In the mean time, Kressing and Doc Hammerback will be driven out of the camp by one of the other Germans, that would be you Staff Sergeant."

"Wait a minute, Sir, does that mean…" I'm pretty sure I know what Ross is going to ask.

"Yes Private, I'm going to play Kressing for the evening."

There is absolute silence in the barracks. I can barely see, but I'd bet money they are all giving me a shocked look.

"I beg your pardon Sir, but you are out of your mind." Flack says matter-of-factly.

"Sir, Kressing will kill you if you try anything." Hawkes warns.

"I know that Doc, but he's the only one who is close enough in age to me to pull this off."

"Why don't we just have you as one of the prisoners Sir? It will be a lot safer." Hayes suggests.

I shake my head. "The other guards will get suspicious if two lower level soldiers are randomly escorting the highest ranking American out of the camp. Plus, with only two soldiers taking a large group of Americans without an officer nearby? Not only that, if one of the real Germans question Kressing, I'll be there to cover for us. This is how it has to be done."

"When are we going to carry out this plan?" Doc Hammerback asks.

"We'll need to get another message out to Stella to get her to have a car waiting for us, and Doc, you'll need to find some way to get the guards sick without anyone catching on."

"We'll have the message ready for you by the time she comes back Sir." Hayes tells me.

"And we'll start looking for guards to follow." Messer points to himself and Flack.

I nod. "Good. Once everything is in place, we'll have one more meeting to go over the final details of the plan and then we are escaping this place."

"We have a name for this Sir?" Flack asks.

I decide to stick with the poker theme "Operation Royal Flush."

_Good? Bad? Either way, if you have an opinion about this or any chapter specifically or the story overall, I'd love to hear it. Hold on, exciting stuff is coming up soon._


	21. Friendly Fire

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks as always for the kind reviews, alerts, favorites, and just reading this story. Here is Chapter 21. Enjoy._

**Chapter 21: Friendly Fire**

I'm a damned fool. I should be court-martialed for being so stupid. In my excitement at coming up with a plan for getting my team out of here, I forgot about the rest of my men. If my team escapes, the rest of them will suffer for it. If they escape first, then my team will suffer for it. Right after the meeting about Operation Royal Flush had broken, I began to pace around my barracks, trying to find a way out of this dilemma. "Damn it!" I say to myself. If I can't think of a solution to this problem, we'll have to scrap Royal Flush.

While I'm pacing, I hear a very distant sound. Initially it is a buzzing noise, but that's not it. The sound gets closer and clearer. I know what it is.

"Oh God."

I race outside. The German guards on patrol don't seem too bothered by me. They too are looking up at the sky. I hear the question "Luftwaffe?" uttered by one of them with another shaking his head. I don't speak any German, but I know what that means, and I know the implication; it is an American bomber and it is heading straight towards us.

I head over to one of the German guards. He gets a surprised, though defensive look when I come up to him.

"Commandant von Touffel?" I ask. I need to speak with him. German and American are going to have to work together if we are going to survive this.

The German looks at me with a blank look, but points to the Commandant's headquarters. I race off. The Commandant is an honorable man. He won't let his or my men die by our own bomber.

The light is on in the Commandant's office. I guess I'm not the only commander with insomnia. I pound on the door. "Herr Commandant! It's Major Taylor we have an emergency!"

I anxiously wait for the Commandant to come to the door. All the while, the sounds of our bombers get closer and closer.

"Come on." I mutter impatiently. Finally, the door opens up and the Commandant, his uniform impeccable as always comes out. He looks at me with annoyance.

"Commandant, we have a problem. The camp is going to be bombed. We have to do something."

His face still has that annoyed look. "What do you expect me to do Major?"

"Fly up a Red Cross flag or send some kind of signal that this is a POW camp!" I practically shout at him. What the hell is the Commandant's problem.

"I can't do that Major, it violates international law. Don't worry though. I was informed by the Wehrmacht that we already shot down the rest of the bombers on this mission. Plus, this one already dropped some of its payload. The men from the first bombing have radioed and assured me that it has only one or two bombs left to drop. They'll probably try and save the bombs and just fly back to your side. I'm not worried." He closes the door.

"Sir!" I try desperately one more time, hoping beyond hope that some basic humanness in the Commandant will come out. It doesn't.

"Damn it." I swear to myself. The roar of the plane grows louder and louder. Peering overhead, I see it; a lone American bomber, flying over this camp. There are no distinct markings on our barracks vs. the Kraut's barracks that the bomber will see. They are going to bomb something indiscriminately. At this time of night, my men will be asleep. _Oh God, they might be killed by our own guys_ I think to myself in horror. I start running towards the two barracks. My men need to be woken up. They need to be warned.

The plane roars. It is directly overhead.

I run inside the first of our two barracks and yell "Bomber! Get out!" The men start to wake up and scramble to get out. In truth I don't really know what to do when I get all my men up and about, but I won't let them die in their beds by our own bomber. The unmistakable sound of a bomb dropping reaches my ears. In spite of the danger, I keep running towards the other barracks. I _have_ to make sure my men are safe, whether I am or not.

I almost reach the other barracks when the bomb falls on it. A massive explosion engulfs everything. The force of it throws everyone backwards and blinds me. I land hard on my back. The first thing I see when my vision clears up is the dark July evening sky. I lie there in a daze, struggling to get my bearings. Then, two strong pairs of hands grab my arms and help pull me to my feet. It's Flack and Messer.

"Sir! Are you okay?" Flack shouts to me. I nod in the affirmative. I don't feel any pain so I assume I'm unhurt. The building is barely on fire and I notice Hawkes, Hayes and Ross rushing to and from the kitchen with water, trying to put out the fire. The Germans don't seem to be in much of a hurry to help us. _Bastards_ I think to myself. I don't doubt that if _their_ barracks had been hit, we wouldn't have much choice in helping them. Flack and Messer run to help the others to put out the fire, which they accomplish after a valiant effort.

"I'm going in." I tell them. I need to see if any of my other men are still alive. Throwing caution to the wind, I enter into the bombed-out barracks.

The scene is one out of my worst nightmares. The building has collapsed and the cries from wounded and dying men pierce the night. One of them, Private Wesley, an intensely quiet young man, is nearby. His legs have been crushed, destroyed, either by the bomb or by the debris and he is lying there, offering a pitiful moan. I come over to him and pick him up while he stifles another painful cry and I carry him out of the building. I put him on the ground and prepare to head back inside when a creaking noise is followed by the collapse of the roof. Any hope of getting the other men out of there is gone. "God damn it!" I swear in anger.

I head back over to Wesley. "Private? Private can you hear me?" I grab his hand in my own. The young man looks at me with a terrible fear in his eyes.

"Major?" He mumbles.

"It's me Private. Just hold on. DOC! WE NEED YOU!" I shout to Hammerback since Hawkes is helping Hayes, who collapsed from temporary heat exhaustion.

Doc Hammerback runs over to me and Wesley. He quickly looks over the man and whispers softly in my ear.

"Sorry Major. He has no chance."

I turn back to Wesley. His other hand is shaking and seems to be reaching into his pocket.

"Stay still Private, save your strength." I tell him, trying to keep him from putting himself in more pain. It's all I can do.

"Sir." He says with his remaining strength, his voice still only barely more than a whisper.

"I'm here Private." I continue gripping his hand.

"Sir, please take the letter in my pocket and give it to my parents." He looks at me pleadingly.

"I will."

"It's cold." He mumbles. I take off my jacket and put it over him. I have no medical training and it isn't going to help at this point. My job is to make sure he is as comfortable as possible.

The young man dying in my arms lifts himself up and starts to sob on my shoulder.

"It's okay Private." It's gut-wrenching that he knows what is going to happen and I know it too.

Wesley starts to shake uncontrollably.

"Mom. I miss you mom." He cries out. After a few seconds, he stops shaking and his hand goes limp in mine. The sobbing stops and I gently lay him back on the ground and close his eyes. I also take his letter and dog tags with my free hand. After some hesitation, I let go of his hand and place it at his side.

"Don't worry Sam; I'll get these to your parents." I tell him quietly, even though he can't hear me anymore.

"Major." It's a very quiet and subdued Flack.

"What is it Sergeant?" I don't look up from Wesley's face.

"Sorry Sir, but we have the count." He says somberly.

"And?" I say sourly. I'm not in the mood for any shit.

"We lost almost everyone Sir. Carson both Jones's, Stewart, Doran, Clark, O'Donnell, and Wesley."

"Who's left Sergeant?"

"Ross, Hayes, Hawkes, Hammerback, Messer and myself. And you Sir. That's it."

Karma is vicious and unforgiving. The men I hadn't made plans for in escaping this damned camp will never leave it. What's worse, I can't even rage at the Germans for killing them. They didn't. My men in this camp died because of the stupidity of our own. For a long time after Sergeant Flack's report, I don't move from this spot. The smell of burnt wood, the terrible knowledge of what has happened, even the fact that the Germans are around, none of it reaches me. I just sit there, holding Private Sam Wesley's dog tags and last letter home.

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about this chapter, any of the other chapters, or the story overall, I'd love to hear it. _


	22. Conduct of a Gentleman

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_ Sorry this took a little longer to post. Final papers are time consuming and not fun. Thanks for your patience. Here is Chapter 22. Enjoy._

**Chapter 22: Conduct of a Gentleman**

Ever since last night, Stella has been anxious to get to Camp Percival. The bomb that had been dropped on the camp made her sick with worry. Unfortunately, she couldn't leave for the camp right away. She has to find out who Kressing has sent to follow her. To this end, she wanders around town for a while in the morning, trying to see if there is someone who looks unfamiliar or out of place.

First, Stella heads to her favorite café, but she doesn't notice anyone watching her as she sits outside and sips her coffee. Heading to the market, Stella stops by Sal's stall and makes a small purchase. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees a person that was at the café. She says goodbye to Sal and heads away. She turns down a side street and then turns back around to peer into the market square. Her heart sinks as she sees a man talking to Sal and the young man points in the direction she went. The man is older than Sal, but probably younger than Major Taylor. He doesn't look like a typical German, but he certainly isn't Italian. Stella is sure that he is from the camp, but she doesn't remember him exactly. The spy doesn't follow to where she went, instead he hands Sal several bills. _He's bribing him_ she thinks to herself. It saddens her that the Germans would resort to this just to keep track of her.

Disheartening though it may be, Stella gained two pieces of valuable knowledge by this. One, she now knows what the German who is spying on her looks like. Secondly, she knows she he is bribing her friends and neighbors to act as his spies. She can trust even fewer people now than she could before.

***

Stella immediately feels that something is wrong when she gets to Camp Percival. The guards, instead of being casual about her, regard her coldly this time.

A smiling Kressing comes up to her car and Stella's frown increases. If Kressing is in a good mood, that is a bad sign.

"Guten tag Frauline. The Commandant would like to have some words with you."

"What in regards to Captain?" She asks curiously.

Kressing keeps that wry smile but merely says "I don't know, but please don't keep the Commandant waiting."

"I won't. Thank you for the message Captain."

Stella heads into the Commandant's headquarters and finds von Touffel writing at his desk. He doesn't stand up when she comes in, which is out of character for him. He continues writing and doesn't look at her.

"You wanted to see me Commandant?"

Still writing, von Touffel starts talking in a cold authoritarian voice. "I do not wish to see you coming around this camp anymore Frauline."

"What? Why not Sir? I thought you enjoyed our time together?" Her mind is racing. If she can't come back to and from the camp, she won't be able to help Major Taylor or the Americans.

"Well, I no longer do and as Commandant of this camp it is within my expressed authority to decide who I want coming in and out. I'm tired of letting you in so I want you out. I'm also tired of your meddling and your fraternizing with the enemy. Frauline, you are an Italian. I am a German. These prisoners are at war with both our countries and have invaded your homeland. German soldiers are dying every day to keep the Americans from conquering Italy and how do you people repay us? By practically laying out the carpet for these invaders. I've had enough of it. Finish up any business you have within this camp and then get out."

"What has happened Commandant?" She asks anxiously. What has she done for him to act like this? Does he know about her work with the Americans.

Commandant von Touffel doesn't look up from his work. "Sorry Frauline, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He tells her shortly.

Stella hardens her gaze and her resolve as she heads out of the Commandant's headquarters. Out of the corner of her eye she spots Major Taylor and heads over to him.

***

It warms my heart when I see Stella here in the camp. After we let her know that Kressing was having her followed, I've been very nervous and concerned for her safety. I'm leaning up against my barracks when she comes over to talk to me. The look I get from her is not very reassuring. She seems angry and frustrated.

"What's wrong Stella?" I ask quickly. I hope to God she is okay.

"Commandant von Touffel is forbidding me from coming back to the camp after today."

"What?!" She must have heard him wrong. It will be devastating if she isn't allowed back. Our whole plan for escaping this hole will be gone.

"It's true. I just spoke with him."

"What the Hell has gotten into von Touffel recently?" I wonder aloud.

"What do you mean?"

I tell her about the bombing last night and the Commandant's response to it. Stella is shocked and appalled by what I tell her.

"I'm so sorry that that happened to you. It must have been awful" She tells me gently.

I let out a tired sigh. "I know. It's been hard on everyone."

"You and your men have to get out of here Mac, before you all get killed."

"I know, and we have a plan. Give me a hug."

"What?" She looks at me confusedly.

"Give me a hug. There is another letter under my coat tucked into my belt that explains our plan. Give me a hug and grab the letter.

She complies and hugs me. I feel her take the letter, which we folded up into such a small square that she can hide it relatively easily. She also takes the time to whisper something in my ear.

"You were right Mac. Kressing is having someone follow me. I saw him talking to someone in the market place."

"Please be careful Stella."

"I will. _You_ need to be careful. I don't want you to get hurt." Her voice starts to waver.

She lets go of me after some time. Her eyes are puffy as if she is fighting back tears. I think she feels like this may be the last time she sees me.

"Goodbye Mac. Promise me you will be careful and not do anything rash. Promise me." She looks at me pleadingly.

"I promise I'll see you again." I tell her.

The tears I expect to come never do. Instead she begins to head away from me and back out of the camp.

***

Commandant von Touffel watches from his office as Stella and Major Taylor have their conversation. After a few quick words each, the Major tells her something that makes Stella gasp in horror. The Major then tells him something else and Stella reacts by throwing her arms around him in a hug. Watching the scene makes the Commandant uncomfortable. He sighs and turns away. He is suddenly disgusted with himself; he has become just like that boorish oaf Kressing, especially with his earlier outburst at the Italian woman. He let his emotions interfere with the proper running of his camp. That isn't the Prussian way. Sighing again, von Touffel heads out of the barracks and over to Stella, who is about to depart. The woman glares back at him.

"What do you want Herr Commandant?" She spits out, acid in her voice.

"Are you leaving now?" He asks nonchalantly.

"Yes I am, and you'll be happy to know that I am not coming back."

The Commandant sighs again and wipes his hand across his face and over his mustache. "I would like to… apologize for my earlier rude behavior Frauline. They were unbecoming of a Prussian gentleman and a German officer."

Stella looks up from the Commandant with surprise.

He presses forward. "You help the moral of both my men and even some of the Americans. That is important for both sides. I will let you come and visit the camp once a week as you usually do Frauline, but that is it. Do you understand?"

She nods. "Thank you Herr Commandant." She says quietly.

"Very good Frauline. That will be all."

She heads out of Camp Percival, relieved beyond words that something had changed in the mind of von Touffel.

***

"I want a word Major." The Commandant comes up to me. It is right after Stella has left. He's probably going to tell me that he has forbidden her from coming back. The bastard.

He points to the car that is rapidly fading from our vision. "That woman loves you Major." The Commandant states matter-of-factly.

He doesn't allow me to respond before he keeps talking. "I know she loves you, because I've seen her falling in love with you. For her sake if not for yours, you need to stay in line and follow camp policies. Rest assured Major, if you step out of line, I will have no qualms about punishing you, but if you don't want to cause that woman any pain, you'll not cause any trouble and stay alive until this war is over. She chose you Major. Prove you deserve it."

Von Touffel acts as if he is surrendering the German Army to me. It comes to me; he wanted her to love him and he now realizes she doesn't. Now, he is taking his defeat like a true Prussian. Before I can say a word, he walks back into his office and he leaves me here with this shocking, unexpected news.

_Good? Bad? If you have an opinion about this chapter or any chapter in particular or this story in general, please let me know._


	23. Plans Forge Ahead

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks once again for all the kind reviews, alerts and just for reading. Here is Chapter 23. Enjoy._

**Chapter 23: Plans Forge Ahead**

Among the rest of my men, tensions are building under the surface. The men seem less lively than they did before the bombing, which I understand, but some of these tensions might start to pose problems.

Doc Hawkes and Staff Sergeant Hayes are getting on each other's nerves. It is a very odd relationship those two have developed. They try to be unfailingly polite to each other, but there is tension underneath the surface that is not hard to pick up on. It's almost like they think they should be having problems with each other. It's sad but understandable. Hawkes told me he is from Michigan; the North. His family had moved to Detroit after the last World War. He has never been to the South; it is a region that he has heard nothing but bad things about, and that includes the people. As for Hayes, he is a Southerner through and through. Just by the way he talks about his home, it is clear that he loves the South and the people there. He doesn't take Corporal Messer's jokes about his home very well. The white Southerner and the black Northerner; no wonder they feel like there should be or there is going to be a problem.

As for the others, I haven't noticed anything as potential explosive as what is between Hawkes and Hayes, but some tension is there. If it's at all possible Flack and Messer poke at each other more than they did before. So far it has been friendly, but my concern is that just one wrong comment will set off a nasty scene. While I understand why things are getting tense, it is frustrating nonetheless. If we are going to try and escape from this camp, we need to work together and deal with these personal problems later.

Despite the personal tensions, plans continue for Operation Royal Flush. Flack and Messer have found German guards they somewhat resemble and have begun shadowing them. Hawkes is gaining the trust of the German cooks and Hayes has started to teach us all at least some German. I performed my task and got Stella the later detailing our plan. Now, I have to hope that she will complete her part in Operation Royal Flush. I have no doubt that she will do whatever is necessary to help us out.

Even with everything going on with my men and with Royal Flush, I find myself laying awake at night mostly thinking about what Commandant von Touffel said to me about Stella. "_That woman loves you Major_…_She chose you…Prove you deserve it_." The moment after he said that, a thousand different questions have come into my mind, questions I've spent hours thinking about. How am I supposed to react to such a thing? I know that she is concerned about me and my safety, but isn't that just from the friendship we have developed? Does she really have any type of romantic feelings towards me? Was Commandant von Touffel lying to me? He seemed sincere but with matters of the heart, you can never be sure. The Commandant also had or has feelings for her; who knows what sort of things he might say?

On top of that, I don't even know my own feelings about her. I don't know if I'm ready for anything like that or if I want it, especially so soon after what happened. It's been almost three years and some days it seems like it happened yesterday. The painful memories still haunt me. I'm reminded of it every time I glance down at my left hand and I notice the band of pale skin on my fourth finger. I decided not to wear it when I came over here. Just in case the worst should happen I don't want something like that, priceless well beyond its material value, falling into the hands of someone else.

Having had a chance to think about it more over the last few days, I've decided it must be some kind of charade or ruse. It has to be. After all, why would Stella love me? I have nothing to give her and my presence, along with every other American in this camp is endangering her home and her town. If we escape then that will cause her even more problems for her. Besides, I'm certain she would have told me if she had any of those sorts of feelings. Stella is a direct person; she wouldn't hide something like that from me.

It's just a hoax the Germans came up with. We are good friends and we make good colleagues but that is it. She doesn't love me.

***

In Umberetto, at a certain woman's favorite café, a man relatively new to the town enjoys his cup of coffee while he waits for his contact to show up. The man taps the table impatiently. It isn't like his colleague to be late.

Finally another man comes up and sits at the table. He looks far more like the stereotypical Aryan; blonde hair and cold, pitiless blue eyes. What is more unusually is that Captain Hans Kressing is out of uniform. He knows he still looks like a typical German, but at least without his uniform he can go into town without being eyed by everyone.

Instead of their usual salute, the men shake hands, which in many ways is more fitting for them. In actuality, Kressing and First Sergeant Niepper have a cordial relationship. The First Sergeant understands his brutal commander well, and Kressing has come to appreciate the value of Niepper's information.

"So, what do you have for me Franz?" Kressing asks Niepper. They decided to use first names for this meeting just in case anyone around can understand German. Both soldiers don't want to be identified.

The First Sergeant smiles slightly. This was just like Hans; always to the point. "Well Sir, the woman is alone and mostly does boring routine things. Goes to this café, heads into the market and spends quite some time shopping. Occasionally she'll visit some other places, but that is about it."

"What other places?"

"There is a church, San Giovanni's, where she goes off to pray quite often."

Kressing's ears perk up at this. "She has never struck me as much of a religious person. Usually most Italian women have rosary beads and saint's medallions and all that other superstitious nonsense. Ms. Bonasera never does."

"Well Sir, she is at that church frequently for some reason."

"Interesting. Does she have any friends or people that she is close to in town?"

Niepper shakes his head. "No Sir. As far as I can tell, she likes to keep to herself."

"Any men that come by? Does she have a suitor or is she making money selling herself?"

"She doesn't have men come by, but as to whether or not she is in love with someone, I can't say."

"What do you mean?"

"One of my contacts, a person who works at this café saw her reading what they thought was a love letter. She appeared to read it several times and even scribble something on a napkin about it."

"What did she do with this letter?"

"She took it with her."

"Damn woman. She probably memorized it and then destroyed it."

"Captain, you think she is communicating with the prisoners from the camp?"

"I wouldn't doubt it Franz. Commandant von Touffel lets her spend far too much time with the Americans especially that damn Major. He's probably using her to pass notes to the Resistance, if she isn't in the Resistance herself."

"So what do we do Sir?"

"We have to find out what that woman does at San Giovanni's Church all the time. Follow her there and see what she's up to. Again Commandant von Touffel is ordering us to not harm her, but he will want to know what she is up to."

"Gladly Sir. Anything else?"

"Yes. Keep a close eye on your little network of spies. If one of them decides to tell her what is going on, tell me and you and I will take care of them."

"I doubt that would end well for any of them."

"Correct. If you find out anything tell me and we'll discuss our course of action."

"Are you expecting something Sir?"

Kressing takes a sip of coffee. "Yes I am Franz. Those Americans are up to something, I know it. The Commandant may be blind to what they are trying to do but I am not. Any prisoner of war worthy of the name 'soldier' tries to escape. I expect no less from these Americans."

"Rest assured Captain, if the Americans are planning anything with that Italian woman, we will know about it."

"I hope so for both our sakes. The Wehrmacht is not forgiving about failure. For now though, concentrate on your new assignment Niepper. Find out what is going on at San Giovanni's Church."

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about this or any other chapter specifically or this story in general, don't hesitate to write a review._


	24. Nightmares and Deceptions

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks for all the kind review, alerts, favorites, and everything else. Here is Chapter 24. Enjoy._

**Chapter 24: Nightmares and Deceptions**

_It is a scene out of Hell. A city engulfed in flames and writhing in chaos. The sun is down but the sky is a raging inferno of red and orange colors. Fires burning. Roofs collapsing. Entire buildings being destroyed. Anti-aircraft fire lighting up the night sky. Screams and cries of horror pierce the night. Then a sound comes crystal-clear, above all the noise of a city engulfed by terror._

"_Mac! Help me!" _

The shock of hearing that voice wakes me out of the first sleep I had been getting in days. I expect I know what was going to happen next in that awful dream and I thank God for waking up. Knowing that any further sleep is fruitless, I head out of the barracks. Since I'm only in my t-shirt and pants, without any boots or accessories, the Germans don't pay me much mind.

The images of what I saw are still flashing around in my mind. A true inferno full of chaos and destruction. And death.

I head over to the fencing surrounding the camp. I grab onto the wire and place my head on what of the support beams, closing my eyes. Here I reflect on the ungodly nightmare and what it means.

I know the images will never go away, will never leave me in peace. I know this because they are so ingrained in me that I simply can't forget. I wasn't there when it happened, but I saw the newsreels at the movies and my mind filled in the rest, creating a nightmarish world that I return to whenever I try to sleep. It left me with two choices really; either experience that hell every night or give up on sleep. I chose to give up on sleep.

I stand here at this gate, eyes closed, and feeling pain far worse than anything I had felt in the stockade without food. This pain eats at me in a way hunger never could. It hurts every time I'm haunted by these dreams and there is nothing I can do about it. It's still so soon after her death that on some mornings I half expect her to be there waiting for me with a cup of coffee for each of us and that smile I fell in love with. And, as always, cruel fate reminds me that no she isn't coming, and yes the reality is the same.

I don't notice as time slowly passes by as I'm consumed with these thoughts of pain and regret.

***

Unbeknownst to him, the other Americans watch their commander from afar. His behavior is confusing to them.

"He's just standing there" Messer comments.

"Is he alright? Should we try and help him?" Flack wonders aloud.

"No." Hawkes answers.

"Why not Doc?" Ross wonders.

"Because he's going through something over there that is best kept private."

"What do you mean?" Flack asks confusedly.

"The Major is going through some kind of deep emotional pain. He should be left alone."

"Is this about Sam or the others?" Flack asks rhetorically.

"Maybe but I doubt it." Hayes comments.

"How do you know that Tom?" Messer asks.

"Just a hunch." He replies simply.

After some time they notice Major Taylor coming out of the private realm where his mind had been. They quickly go about with their regular morning routine and none of them says a word to Major Taylor about what they had seen. To them it was incredible, but not in a good way. To the men under his command, the Major never appeared to them as anything but a tower of strength. Even when he came out of the stockade, starving and half-dead he was still in control. This is different. To his men, Major Taylor seems just a little more human, and that isn't necessarily good.

***

The same time that Major Taylor inhabited his dark private realm, Stella left her home to have a meeting with Nurse Lindsay and set up the details for getting her friend Jess into Camp Percival. After deciphering Major Taylor's latest code, Stella has spent her time trying to incorporate Jess's performance into the plan for Operation Royal Flush. She hopes to talk to Nurse Lindsay about it.

Stella takes the familiar winding road to San Giovanni's Church. Father Immanuel is up as always with a friendly smile and a welcoming demeanor. Stella wonders sometimes if the Father ever sleeps.

"Good morning Ms. Bonasera. How are you this fine day?" He asks cheerily.

"I'm fine Father. Is she here?"

"Yes, Ms. Monroe just arrived and morning Mass doesn't start for a while. It should be clear."

"Thank you Father." She heads inside to find Lindsay in one of the pews.

They say their traditional lines and get down to business. Stella quickly explains Operation Royal Flush to Lindsay.

"So now our big question is; how do we incorporate our plan into the Major's plan?" Stella says.

"Maybe we could have Jesse perform the night they are going to escape? The Germans will be busy watching the show which should give the men in the camp enough time to get out." Lindsay suggests.

"That might work." Stella muses

While the women continue their discussion, Father Immanuel steps out of San Giovanni for a breath of fresh air and realizes to his horror that another car is off in the distance heading towards the church. It isn't from someone in town. It's an outsider.

"Oh Lord." Immanuel says while making the Sign of the Cross "German." The priest heads back inside trying not to look like he is panicking. He heads over to the two women.

"My ladies I'm sorry to interrupt but we have a problem. A car is coming here and inside is a German I'm sure of it. Ms. Monroe you have to hide."

The two women scramble out of the pew.

"What are we going to do?" Lindsay asks with fear in her voice.

"We have to hide you my lady." Father Immanuel says. "Wait I have an idea. Come with me." He turns to Stella "You stay here ma'am and take this." Father Immanuel hands her a rosary.

Lindsay nods as she and Father Immanuel head out of sight.

Stella covers her head with a white veil and kneels down to begin praying the rosary.

***

Meanwhile, Lindsay and Father Immanuel head to the side of the church where Father Immanuel's office and more importantly where the wardrobe is. Father Immanuel starts quickly going through it, clearly looking for something. Finally, he finds what he is looking for.

He hands Lindsay something. "Here, get in this. Quickly girl! Quickly!"

***

First Sergeant Niepper enters into San Giovanni's Church. He had been informed by one of his sources that she had left early to go to the church, something she never did. This opportunity was too good to pass up. He could catch her in the act of treason.

When he pulled up to the church, Niepper's feelings of triumph were even greater. Another car was there; undoubtedly Ms. Bonasera's American contact. This was it. He had her.

Niepper heads into the Church and gives himself the Sign of the Cross. Inside he is disappointed that all he finds is that woman, by herself, kneeling and praying the rosary in one of the pews. Ignoring her, Niepper is determined to find the priest. He would have an explanation for Niepper or the German would hand the priest over to the blackshirts.

"Father! Father!"

Father Immanuel comes out. "The peace of God be with you my son. What can I help you with?"

"Who else is here Father? I saw another car outside. I'm with the Italian government and making a routine inspection trip."

"That car belongs to one of our visiting Sisters. Sister Genevieve please come out here and say hello to this gentleman."

Lindsay came out, covered head to toe in the black habit of a nun."

"What can I do for you my brother?" She says in perfect Italian.

"What are you doing here Sister?" Niepper asks with skepticism.

"I am on a religious pilgrimage to visit and pray in as many of our country's churches as I can. I pray for an end to this war, and I will pray for you as well my brother."

Niepper examines the woman, looking for any signs that she is lying or deceiving him. He can't find any. As much as he would like to believe otherwise, the nun isn't lying.

"Fine, but be careful. Rumor has it that the Allies are going to be making an advance in this area soon. Stay away from those British and Americans. Remember our country is at war with them and they will show no mercy. Even to the religious. Good day."

Niepper hurriedly heads out of San Giovanni's. He catches one last look at Stella who is still praying quietly in the pew. The German swears in his native tongue and leaves the church.

***

Lindsay gets out of the habit, completely and utterly relieved that their plan worked.

"God smiled upon us my sisters." Father Immanuel comments.

"Yes He did." Stella smiles. "I'll have to be more careful next time."

"Until the men at Camp Percival get out, there isn't going to be a next time." Lindsay comments. "We can't risk this again."

"I agree." Father Immanuel concurs.

"Father, if you wouldn't mind, may I borrow that habit?" Lindsay asks.

"What for" says the confused priest.

"Stella and I won't meet again, but we can still use this church as a rendezvous point. If I give you letters or anything else for her, could you get it to her? The habit will help me keep up the façade of being a nun."

"I can do that." Father Immanuel nods.

Lindsay turns to Stella. "I'll send you some instructions about Jess and when she will be arriving in Umberetto. I trust you both cna come up with a plan for getting into the camp."

"Don't worry we will." Stella says firmly. "I should be going."

"I hope God is with you." Lindsay says as her goodbye.

"I hope He is with all of us." Stella says.

She heads out of the church and begins driving back,

***

In a secluded part of the woods, another car waits for her to drive by. In it, First Sergeant Niepper sits. He glares at her car as she heads by on the road.

"You gave me the slip this time Bonasera, but it won't happen again. I promise that."

_Good? Bad? If you have an opinion about this or any other chapter specifically or the story in general, I'd love to hear it._


	25. Coming Ashore

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks again for all the reviews, alerts, and favorite. It's finals time so this is providing a great escape from school pressure. Here is Chapter 25. Enjoy_

**Chapter 25: Coming Ashore **

Waves gently rock the ship as final preparations for docking are made. The Captain is relieved; this was as about an easy a voyage that could be made, what with a war going on and all. The only moment of concern was when a squadron of Allied planes passed overhead. However, the ship was so clearly marked as a passenger vessel that it was left alone.

"We will be docking in Napoli in a few minutes ladies and gentlemen." The Captain announces over the ship radio.

All the passengers start making preparations to disembark. One of the sailors comes up to a woman who is by herself.

"Excuse me Senorita, but do you need a hand?" He says with a roguish grin.

She knows exactly why he is asking, but she appreciates the effort and awards him with a smile.

"I'm fine thank you Sir."

The sailor looks like this woman has made his day. He plasters a big smile on his face and leaves her in peace.

The woman traveling as Senorita Isabella Fernandez is very pleased with herself. Her Spanish has been good enough to make everyone believe that she is Spanish herself. She takes another glance at her passport; it is a perfect match to the ones from Spain. This will actually be the second time that she has shown her fake passport. The first time was to get into Sardinia and now the Italians were checking again since she is coming on the mainland.

Despite her success with the language and despite her very well forged passport, Isabella Fernandez alias for Ms. Jessica Angell is still nervous about when she lands. She is entering the mainland of one of the Axis powers as an agent of the Allies. Nurse Lindsay taught her a little Italian, mainly just enough to get to where she needs to be, but that is it. A hundred bad scenarios enter into her mind; she is arrested the moment she lands, she is confronted by the black shirts and she can't remember what to say. Her passport is discovered as a fraud, she can't find Nurse Lindsay's contact. All these swirl around in her mind and increase her already prevalent nervousness. However, there is something else that is at the forefront of her mind; the image of a tall man with black hair and a big grin on his face. Her Don Flack; the man she loves. If this nervousness is the price she has to pay to help him, well then she will have to deal with it.

The boat finally docks in Naples. The city has been spared of bombings, so far. Nurse Lindsay had told her before she left that the Allies were trying to woo the Italians to their side or at least gin up support for the Allied cause in Southern Italy. As a result, Allied military action would be sparse in the region, which also meant that the cavalry wouldn't be appearing over the hill to save the day. The OSS, the Resistance, and the soldiers at Camp Percival for now are on their own.

She gets her suitcases and disembarks. The first of her fears is dispelled when the Italian port authority checks her passport in a very blasé fashion. Jess can't help when she lets out a heavy sigh of relief. She just hopes it wasn't too audible. The fact that she is worrying about sighing too loudly showes her how paranoid she is. It actually makes her laugh at herself a bit. _You are worrying too much_ she tells herself. _Nurse Lindsay wouldn't send you into a situation that she didn't think you could handle_. Her self pep-talk helps calm Jess down.

Jess stands there on the noisy, crowded docks, looking for her contact. Lindsay had given her a picture of the woman she would be meeting and apparently her contact had the same of her. Jess just hopes that they find each other soon. Surrounded by a huge mass of people all speaking a language she doesn't understand makes her feel uncomfortable, and completely foreign and out of place.

A hand is placed on her shoulder and Jess immediately snaps out in English "look pal, I'm not interested."

A bemused feminine voice speaks up "don't worry Senorita, I'm not either."

Jess turns around and looks at the woman who was in the photo that Nurse Lindsay showed her. Another wave of relief passes over her. This is her contact.

"Ms. Bonasera?" Jess asks for confirmation.

The other woman nods "Yes that's me. You must be Jessica Angell, or are you now going by Isabella Fernandez?"

A smile tugs at Jess's face. "Either one is fine."

Stella smiles as well "This way." She takes one of Jess's suitcases and leads her to a waiting car. Jess is glad that her new Italian friend is not only taking charge, but knows what she is doing.

They get the luggage into Stella's car and she starts driving into Neapolitan traffic. The two women don't say too much while in Naples. Stella is concentrating on driving in the hazardous traffic and Jess is taking the sights and sounds of Naples, which is just as crazy as New York. Eventually though, the hustling and busyness of the city give way to the rolling hills and fields of rural Southern Italy.

With the city behind them, the two women strike up conversation.

"So, which one of the soldiers is yours?" Stella asks her.

An inevitable smile comes to Jess's lips thinking about the lover of her life. "Sergeant Flack is mine. We met back in the States when I was singing at a club in Brooklyn and he was a beat cop who was coming in for a drink after his patrol. He stayed until the end of my performance and bought me dinner. We started talking and he hasn't stopped since." Stella laughs.

"How about you Ms. Bonasera? How did you get involved in the Resistance?"

"I always hated Mussolini and his thugs. I actually lived in America for a couple of years which is where I learned to speak English as well as I do."

"Really? Where did you live?"

"Manhattan."

"Incredible. I'm from Brooklyn and you lived in Manhattan. Small world."

"It certainly is. Where was I? Oh I remember, so I lived in America for a while and I loved the freedoms that everyone had. When I came back to Italy it made me so mad to see what the Fascists were doing here. I've wanted to get rid of these people for a while and this is the perfect opportunity."

"Is that it?" Something tells Jess that Stella has other motives than just politics.

"No. "There are other things." She says simply. Over time, Stella's definition of "other things" has changed. It used to be simply helping out the American soldiers trapped helping to liberate her country, but now it is different. Now "other things" really has turned into one thing. That one thing that she puts herself in danger for is sitting in that camp right now.

The drive continues in silence. Jess has an innate feeling that the "other things" that her new companion mentioned involves a man. Nurse Lindsay had told her that Ms. Bonasera mentions the American commander at the camp, a Major Taylor, in a way somewhat similar to that of when Lindsay speaks about Danny or Jess speaks about Don. However, the nurse was quick to point out that Stella would get uncomfortable whenever this would be mentioned and that she will quickly change the subject. _She must not really know how she feels about him_ Jess concludes.

Eventually, after several hours on the road, the two women come upon the small town of Umberetto. Jess, a big-city girl through and through, is still instantly charmed by the quaintness and charm of the small community.

"So this is the famous Umberetto?" She comments to Stella with a smile.

"Yes this is home." Stella says with a wistful pride. "You can stay at my house while we start making arraignments. There is on other thing." Her voice instantly becomes very serious. "I know for a fact that a German has been assigned from the camp to follow me. We got lucky that he wasn't in town today, but he will be around. I'll point him out to you when I see him. If he knows that you are with me, he might try following you as well. When he is around, be very careful."

A small part of Jess wanted to laugh. Her being followed? It sounded a little absurd, but the look on Stella's face was enough to tell her that this is no joke. _Oh God all of this is real_ Jess thinks to herself.

"Is something wrong?" Stella reads the look on her face with concern.

"This is really happening isn't it?" Jess says, the full realization of where she is and what she is doing coming upon her.

Stella lets out a small sigh "Yes this is all too real. I wish it wasn't, but it is and the stakes are incredibly high. But" she puts her hand on Jess's shoulder again "that also means the reward is great. If we do this right, Sergeant Flack will be embracing you as a free man within the month."

Hearing this, Jess's will is strengthened and her resolve steeled once again.

"Alright." She says. "Let's do this."

_Good? Bad? As always if you have a comment about this chapter, or any chapter in particular or the story in general, please don't hesitate to write a review. I read and appreciate every one of them I get._


	26. Dog Days of Summer

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks again for the reviews, alerts, favorites and just for reading this. Here is Chapter 26. Enjoy._

**Chapter 26: Dog Days of Summer**

It is time. Stella knows that if she is going to get Jess either into Camp Percival she has to act quickly. That would be the main purpose of this visit. She also has a more heartbreaking but just as important task to complete. She has gotten word that Commandant von Touffel thinks she is in love with Major Taylor. Stella knows that if the Commandant thinks that, she will be far less likely to keep his trust. She knows what she has to do to deceive the Commandant, but that doesn't make it any easier.

***

It is now the hottest time of the summer. Everyone is miserable in this heat except for Hayes; he seems to be enjoying it. His quirks about the weather aside, the lessons in German that he has been giving me are paying off. The other day when I was walking around the camp, I overheard two of the guards muttering something about the relentless Allied bombing of German cities. The word Kiel was mentioned and the ghost of a smile crossed my face. Kiel is one of Germany's biggest ports. Any bombing of that city would hurt them pretty bad and anything that harms the Germans right now is fine with me.

Stella is coming by today and I have been eager to hear what she has to say about Operation Royal Flush. If she can get things ready outside of the camp, we might actually be able to pull Royal Flush off and I'd pay to see the look on Kressing's face when he realizes what's going on.

The welcoming sound of an old car pulling up to the gate reaches my ears. Sure enough, I look in that direction and there is Stella. Something is wrong though. The look she has on her face is not that of a woman pleased to be here. In fact, she looks furious and angry. _Oh God_ I think to myself _what did these damn Germans do_?

Her smoldering anger hasn't diminished as she comes over to me. If anything, it's gotten worse.

"Stella what's wrong?" I ask her with concern.

Suddenly and without any warning she slaps me hard across the face.

"How dare you!" She yells at me.

"What? What did I do?"Now I'm thoroughly confused.

"Don't act stupid! You tried to use me to contact your friends on the outside! You tried to get me involved in your plans to escape this place! On top of that, you tried to manipulate me, to play on my emotions! I thought you loved me, but you were just using me!"

My jaw is wired shut. What the hell is going on? Where did she get these ludicrous ideas from?

She slaps me again and digs something out of her pocket. It's a letter. "Here I'm giving this stupid love letter back to you. I hope you stay in this camp forever you stupid American!"

She throws the letter on the ground at my feet and starts walking away. I have no idea what is happening.

"Stella wait!" I call out fruitlessly.

"Go to Hell!" She shouts and storms away, heading to the Commandant's office.

I'm left standing here, stunned at what has happened. None of this makes any sense. I'm confused, saddened, and angered beyond all belief.

I see the German guards and some of my own men staring at me, and I'm in no mood for it.

"What the Hell are you looking at?" I bellow at them. Both German and American get the hint and quickly start focusing on other things.

It's then that I notice the letter at my feet. Stella called it a love letter, but I never gave her anything of the kind. Crouching down, I pick it up and open it. Inside is a coded message, exactly like the two I had given her. I stuff it in my pocket and head back to my barracks. I have to decode this message. I have to figure out what has happened.

***

In the office of Commandant von Touffel, Stella keeps up the anger that she displayed so openly in front of everyone outside.

"Ms. Bonasera, please come in." The Commandant smiles as he lets her in. Von Touffel saw the whole thing and he has to admit, it made him feel good to see her rage at the Major. Maybe he just might win her yet.

Stella repeats her tirade against Major Taylor, giving him a chance to revel in that warm feeling.

Seeing that he is in a good mood, Stella moves forward.

"Commandant, I have a suggestion to make to you for your men." She says, reverting to her most charming, friendly demeanor.

"What is it Frauline?" He asks curiously

"Commandant, there is a Spanish woman in town, a Ms. Isabella Fernandez. She is a traveling singer and she is very good. I saw her perform in Naples and I thought it would be a good idea for her to come to this camp and perform for you and your men."

Von Touffel is clearly surprised by her suggestion; a Spanish singer performing for his men? It's actually a brilliant idea. It would raise his men's moral and let them have a temporary escape from the onerous guard duty that so often comes with being at a POW camp.

"Tell me more about this singer if you will Frauline."

"Like I said Commandant she is a Spaniard and has performed for Generalissimo Franco's troops and even some of the Italian Army before. She knows many of the spicy songs that the Spanish are known for. And she is quite beautiful."

The more Stella tells him about it, the more Commandant von Touffel likes the idea.

"Very well Frauline. When can you have her come to our little camp?"

"I can have her here by this time next week."

"That sounds wonderful. If you could arrange when, I would greatly appreciate it."

"I will do my best Commandant."

"Vielen dank Frauline. I'm sure my men will enjoy Senorita Isabella's performance."

Stella smiles her warmest smile at him. "Rest assured Commandant, it will be a performance your men will never forget." She gets up to leave his office.

Commandant von Touffel congratulates himself once again. He knew it was smart to let her keep coming to the camp.

***

As she leaves the camp, Stella's heart sinks. It hurt her more than she could express to have to be like that with Mac. Seeing the confusion and hurt in his eyes deeply saddened her. _It is for the greater good_ she tells herself. Unsurprisingly that doesn't make her feel any better.

Despite that, she still has to judge this mission to the camp to be a success. She persuaded the Captain to let Jess come into the camp and in only a week's time. That will put some time pressure on all of them, but it also means that they are close to putting everything into affect. That means that in one week, all the Americans will be free of that wretched camp.

Stella just hopes that Mac will forgive her for her actions.

***

Captain Kressing watched the spectacle of the Italian woman and the American Major go at it and he isn't at all impressed. He had another meeting with Niepper and nothing in the woman's actions that Niepper has seen shows that they have had a falling out. Those two are up to something. Kressing can feel it.

"Major!"

***

It's Kressing. Bastard. I was just about to get started on decoding Stella's letter, but any delay when dealing with Kressing will turn out badly, so I head out of my barracks and go over to the sadistic Captain. His men and my men all look on from afar; curious about what is going to happen.

Kressing stares directly at me "You may have convinced everyone else that what we just saw was true, but I'm no fool. Try a stunt like that and it will be your death sentence Major. I won't let your rank get in my way again. I promise you." Kressing says with a dangerous tone.

I'm in no mood for Kressing or his sadism. I don't back down, instead I look straight at him. "Before this war is over Kressing, you will die and it will be by my hands."

The camp falls into total, absolute silence. If Kressing is going to do something, now is his time.

Instead the German maintains his stand and sneers at me. "One of us is going to kill the other Major. I have no doubts about that."

I narrow my eyes, grit my teeth and say to him "so be it".

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about this chapter, other chapters, or anything at all, kindly submit a review. Things are going to heat up a bit in the next few chapters. Stay tuned._


	27. Performance of a Lifetime

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Well folks finals (and the semester) are over so right now I have some time to work on this. Thanks as always for all the kind reviews, alerts, favorites and everything else. Enjoy Chapter 27._

**Chapter 27: Performance of a Lifetime**

Stella and her companion Jessica Angell, aka Isabella Fernandez spend the week making their preparations for the evening at Camp Percival. Jess has been focusing on exactly what to sing and how to go about convincing the Germans that she is sincerely delighted to be performing for them. At the same time, Stella is figuring out how to incorporate Operation Royal Flush into their own plans. She is also trying to think of ways to make sure their plans don't get back to Kressing or the Commandant. Stella knows that the German they sent to follow her has recruited at least one informant. She needs to get Sal back on her side. Maybe the kid can help her out instead of the Germans.

To that end, Stella heads to the marketplace and finds Sal at his family's shop.

He waves to her cheerily. "Hello Ms. Bonasera. Is there something you need? We have some fresh grapes in."

"We need to talk Sal."

The young man looks nervous and concerned. "I think I hear someone calling me. I have to go." He says hastily, trying desperately to get away.

Stella doesn't hesitate, but instead grabs his arm. "Sal this is important."

The young man's nervousness does not abate. "What…what about?"

Stella takes a deep breath. This isn't going to be easy. "Sal, I know you have been spying on me for the Germans."

His shocked expression is confession enough for her. "That man is a _German_. I… I didn't know ma'am. I really didn't know."

"I need you to stop helping him Sal."

"But…but… he gives me money. Some of the rations are tough for my parents. We need all the help we can get."

"I know, but he is a German spy Sal and you need to stop."

The young man is distraught over what Stella tells him. A _German_! He thought the man was a suitor who wanted to woo Ms. Bonasera. But a German? Sal feels sick at helping them.

"Ms. Bonasera, rest assured, I won't give him anything else. I won't help the Germans out."

Stella feels that a burden has one of her many burdens has been lifted. At least that problem is taken care of.

After my stare down with Kressing, I finally get to try and decipher Stella's letter. A part of me doesn't want to. After what she did and said to me in front of everyone, I'm not convinced that it was just a charade.

Inside the barracks, I open up the letter. It's written in code, just like the ones I've given her. It takes me some time but I finally am able to decipher it:

_Mac:_

_I'm so sorry for what I did to you but I needed the Germans to think I was on their side again. Later this week a woman named Isabella Fernandez is coming to Camp Percival to perform for the Germans. She is an OSS agent and will be dropping off some items to help you with your escape in the kitchen. They are a pistol, a flask of fuel and a grenade. Use them and be careful Mac._

_Stella_

A great feeling of relief washes over me. It was all just an act. I had hoped and prayed that it was, but reading that it was makes me feel better. So, the singer is an OSS agent. Stella must be in contact and working with them.

She certainly is a remarkable woman.

First Sergeant Niepper heads to his best informant. The young man from the market place, Sal, had told him to come by because he had some important information for him. Niepper congratulates himself as he maneuvers through the marketplace. Only he would have been smart enough to realize how much useful information a 20-year old kid would have.

"You made it." Sal says with relief.

"Yes I'm here. What is it? What is this precious information?"

"Ms. Bonasera came by earlier and mentioned that she has to go to Naples again tomorrow for two days. Apparently she is meeting someone really important."

Another visit to Naples? Since Niepper found out about San Giovanni's Church, the woman must have decided to throw him off with by meeting with whoever her contacts are in Naples. It is easier to get lost in a big city like Naples than in a small town like Umberetto.

"This is very important information indeed. Thank you young man. For this, I'll give you fifty lira right now."

"Thank you sir. It is most kind"

Niepper heads back to his hotel room and begins to pack his things. The moment that woman heads to Naples, he will be prepared to follow. She won't get away this time.

The day of the scheduled performance, Jess and Stella spend their time hiding the equipment the OSS smuggled in with Jess's bag. There are only three items, but they are precious and will be invaluable during Operation Royal Flush.

The sun is setting when a car comes to pick Jess up at the café where the two women are having some coffee. Stella gets nervous when she recognizes the driver; it's Kressing. _This must be pretty important to the Commandant _Stella notes.

"Good evening Frauline Bonasera, Senorita Fernandez. I've been ordered by Commandant von Touffel to be your escort for the evening Senorita. If you are ready, we will head to Camp Percival.

Jess nods. "I'm ready." Kressing takes her bag.

Stella pats her arm. "Have fun" she says good-naturedly.

They drive off and Stella swallows her nervousness. _She's smart, she'll be okay_ Stella reassures herself.

Sergeant Don Flack notices the change in moods of the German soldiers. They seem excited, giddy, and very eager over the arrival of this singer. Flack doesn't think that it is nearly as interesting as the Germans do. After all, he is pretty sure that they aren't going to let him see this Isabella Fernandez. He doesn't care. All this is doing is distracting the Germans while they make the final plans for Operation Royal Flush.

The buzz in the camp grows when a vehicle pulls up to the front gate. Flack still ignores it. Then, something happens that he wouldn't have imagined in a hundred years; he hears a very particular voice asking for some directions. It isn't, Flack decides. It can't be. It would make no sense.

He turns around, just to confirm that it is all in his head.

And it isn't.

Flack's heart is about to burst out of his chest. He loses the feeling in his hands and his mouth goes dry. His jaw drops.

Because there is Jess; _his _Jess, smiling and waiting to be guided through the camp to the place where she is going to perform. A simple and pure joy fills Flack. She's found him. She looks at him and flashes him a smile that weakens his knees and fills up his heart. It takes all he has in him to not rush up to her, to embrace her and take her in his arms and promise to never leave her again. _She came all this way for me_ he thinks to himself, and if at all possible, even more happiness enters into him. _I love her_ he tells himself. There is no dispute or doubt in his mind.

"I love you Jess." He says in a whisper, confirming what he feels inside.

Her own heart fills up with an incredible feeling of love and happiness at seeing that tall black haired man in a dirty uniform staring at her, looking like he is seeing a ghost. _He's alive_. She wants to shout it to the world. She finally found her Don Flack. She could practically reach out and touch him. However, despite her most fervent desire, she can't be with him. She has to do her part to distract these Germans and in her own way, help him get out of this camp.

The German who drove her from town, Captain Kressing, leads her to the mess hall where she will be performing.

"Excuse me Captain, but can I use this kitchen to freshen up before my performance?"

Kressing does his best imitation of sincerity "Of course ma'am. The kitchen is empty now so I'll let you use it."

He leads her to the kitchen area and closes the door. Jess looks around. There are no windows in here or anything else that would give away what she is doing.

Jess immediately delves into her bag and pulls out the Spanish style dress she planned on wearing for the evening. Under the dress, she finds the small pistol Nurse Lindsay had given her and that she and Stella had packed. Looking around, she decides to put it in one of the pots. In another spot of her luggage, she finds the flask of fuel for the car that Ms. Bonasera is parking in the woods the next night. She puts that next to some of the other dishes. Finally she pulls out a grenade that she puts in a bowl of fruit. These three are small things, but if they help Don and the rest of them out, then this will be worth it.

Jess quickly changes into her dress and prepares herself.

"Senorita, are you ready? Everything is ready for your performance to start." Kressing asks with a hint of impatience.

"Yes Captain, I'm ready."

She takes a deep breath. It's time.

Senorita Isabella Fernandez comes out of the kitchen to the cheers of German soldiers. She takes another deep breath and starts to sing.

_Good? Bad? If you have an opinion about anything; this chapter, other chapters, or the whole story in general, please let me know. Operation Royal Flush takes place next. Stay tuned. _


	28. Operation Royal Flush

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks as always for all the kind reviews, alerts, and everything else. This is it, Chapter 28. Enjoy._

**Chapter 28: Operation Royal Flush**

While Isabella Fernandez or "Jess my Angell" as Flack calls her finishes up her performance, Doc Hawkes quickly and quietly heads into the kitchen. One or two Kraut soldiers notice him but pay him no attention. After all, he's just a cook. It's logical that he'd be in a kitchen and besides, the Krauts are much more interested in the performance going on

Inside the kitchen, Hawkes looks around for the stuff that Jess left behind. The grenade and the flask are pretty easy, but it takes him some time to find the gun. He finally finds it in one of the pots, only because the lid on the pot was slightly off. Hawkes stuffs all three items into his pockets, positioning them carefully so it doesn't look like he is carrying anything.

That part of his job accomplished, Hawkes also goes over to where the milk is stored. He takes out some bottles of milk from the spot where they were being cooled. With any luck, by the time that Hawkes comes in for the morning to cook, the milk will have become spoiled. Now that the German cooks trust him, they won't object to him mixing the milk into German food.

When all this is done, Hawkes heads out of the kitchen, his initial part in the Major's plan is done.

Early the next morning, long before anyone, especially First Sergeant Niepper is awake; Stella and Jess get in her car and head to San Giovanni's Church. There, a gift from Nurse Lindsay is waiting for them. A nondescript car is parked outside. Nurse Lindsay, dressed in the habit of her alternate identity of Sister Genevieve comes outside to meet them. She hands Jess the keys to her car.

"Good to see you Lindsay." Jess says happily. It is an enormous relief for Lindsay that Jess got in and out of the camp unharmed.

"Is this it?" Stella asks looking at the car.

Lindsay nods. "Yes, the OSS decided to provide the men of Camp Percival with a car."

"What about you? How are you getting back?" Jess asks.

"Stella and I decided that this would be a good rendezvous point. She will bring the men here in both cars and we'll head to the Allied lines from there."

"Sounds like a plan." Jess nods.

"We should head out Jess." Stella says.

Lindsay waves to them as the other two women head out.

Later that day, in fact around sunset, Stella and Jess prepare to once again head out. Earlier that afternoon, Stella had visited Sal and he shared with her the lie he told Niepper about where she was going. Thinking quickly, Stella realizes what an opportunity this could be. If she can somehow make Niepper believe that she is leaving for Naples now, then they could force the Germans to lose their eyes and ears in Umberetto.

Jess leaves first from the local hotel and heads towards the base. Stella meanwhile, drives out of town heading towards Naples.

First Sergeant Niepper smiles as he watches the troublesome Italian woman leave, heading north towards Naples. With Sal's information, Niepper has no doubts that she is heading to the city. Niepper starts up his car and drives off. He isn't concerned when he doesn't see her car. "Woman driver" he mutters to himself. He'll be in Naples in a few hours; there he can contact the extensive German spy network in the city. He'll find that woman and arrest her in Naples. She won't get away from him this time.

In a strange reversal of roles, Stella finds herself watching as Niepper drives off towards Naples, blissfully unaware that his prey has completely eluded him. Stella waits until he drives off out of her view before she heads back to Umberetto. From there, she goes towards Camp Percival, and into the woods surrounding the camp. Near the edge of the woods with the camp in sight, she finds Jess waiting. The car from Lindsay and the OSS is parked in a secluded area that the men inside will be able to find. The keys are left in the ignition and with the fuel left in the tank plus the oil in the flask, there should be enough for them to get to Umberetto, the first rendezvous point.

With everything in place, the two women take Stella's car back to town. There they will wait.

The tension in the air is palpable. Tonight is when I've decided to give the go ahead. No backing down, no more waiting. Tonight is when we pull off Operation Royal Flush.

Things begin as I hope. Doc Hawkes has done something to their food and combined with the heat of the summer, the Germans are definitely less attentive and focused than usual. Flack, Messser and Hayes have shadowed the Germans they have found, and I've been watching Kressing. I decide to call my men together for one final talk before we begin.

Everyone is here; Flack, Messer, Ross, Hayes, Hawkes, Hammerback and me.

I start whispering and saying what I feel needs to be said. "Alright this is it. After this, we commence Operation Royal Flush. I know we have a plan but things never go exactly as planned. If things start to change, then change with them. Do whatever you have to get out, but if you can avoid killing anyone then do. Good luck and see you on the other side."

They nod and we start splitting into our different groups. This is it.

Adam goes to the garage. The guard who should be there is stuck in the German medical barracks. He's out with food poisoning. Inside the garage, Adam finds one of the trucks and he gets it prepared for Major Taylor.

After getting out of the garage, Adam goes to where Hawkes is. Now they have to wait for Danny and Flack.

Flack and Messer head back to following the soldiers they had been shadowing.

"You ready for this Don?" Messer asks.

"Yeah, let's do it Danny. We're getting out of this damn camp."

The two German soldiers head to the space between the American barracks and the mess hall. Flack and Messer walk up behind them in lock step. The two Germans are talking with each other and laughing about something. They never hear the Americans coming up behind them. It takes one blow each and the Germans are unconscious. Flack and Messer drag the two away and begin to get as much of the German uniforms as they can, essentially putting the German uniform over theirs.

Flack and Messer head out to find Adam and Hawkes waiting for them. The two not dressed in German uniforms put their hands on their heads. Flack and Messer point the machine guns they stole from the Germans at the two and go to the gate.

The gate guard looks at the foursome curiously. He is a newer guard and doesn't seem to recognize the two would-be Germans.

"Where are you taking these prisoners?" One of them asks.

Hayes's lessons pay off. Messer understands what they ask him. Now the real trick; responding to them in the Kraut language.

Messer tries to act nonchalantly, but with a serious tone. "Captain Kressing's bestellungen. Wir sind zu pflegen diese beiden nehmen." _Captain Kressing's orders. We are to take care of these two._

The guard nods and opens the gate. The two Americans and their 'prisoners' head out and Flack shoves Ross for emphasis.

"Position in den wald." _Heading into the forest._ Flack says back. The guard nods again.

Flack, Messer, Ross and Hawkes maintain the illusion of guards and prisoners until they are sure that the Germans in Camp Percival can't see or hear them.

"All clear?" Ross asks nervously.

"All clear." Flack says relief clear in his voice.

"We need to find that car quickly." Hawkes says.

The four of them spread out and look for the car. Eventually after a brief search they find it. Adam digs out the flask full of car fuel and pours it into the gas tank. The keys are still in the ignition.

"What now?" Flack asks.

"Now we wait." Hawkes says.

Things go smoothly for Staff Sergeant Hayes and Doc Hammerback. Since the translator only needs to get rid of one soldier, Major Taylor felt they would be okay together.

To the soldier that he had been shadowing, Hayes calls out in the German language.

"Help! An American is out of barracks after curfew."

The soldier runs over to where Hayes and called from. The moment he turns the corner, he is met in the face by a medical bag. The German staggers back and Hayes smashes a rock on his head. The German is knocked unconscious.

"Not bad Doc." Hayes comments as he puts on the German outfit.

"You weren't too shabby yourself Staff Sergeant."

My part in Royal Flush begins when I see Kressing come out of the headquarters. I notice the light from the Commandant's window is off; he must already be asleep.

I follow Kressing at a distance. I need to get him alone and get him quiet fast, otherwise he'll alert the whole camp. It takes some time and my patience is tried as I wait for that sadistic son of a bitch to be alone. Finally, he's alone, heading up to our barracks. I need to act now. I'm right behind him. Kressing opens the door and discovers the barracks empty.

"Kressing." I exclaim trying to surprise him and get his attention before he can sound the alarm.

The Captain turns around. He offers a vicious smile. "So Major, trying to escape tonight are we?" He draws his gun and to my surprise, tosses it aside. "I don't need this. I want the joy of killing you with my bare hands."

Instead of answering, I rush forward and tackle him, sending us both to the ground. Kressing brings up his leg and harshly knees me in the stomach, winding me. Kressing then punches me in the face, and I feel blood in my mouth. I retaliate by hitting him with my elbow and he starts bleeding as well. He grabs my throat and starts trying to choke me. I feel my airway being cut off and I punch him again in the face. His grip strengthens on me and I desperately hit him again. He knees me again in the stomach and I can do little except keep hitting him. Finally, I land a firm elbow to his temple and Kressing's grip starts to weaken. Another elbow and he releases my throat. The Captain has a dazed look on his face and I give him one more punch.

Kressing passes out and collapses on the floor. I grab the knife from his belt. It will be so easy to kill him. A simple maneuver with the knife and he'd be dead. The bastard deserves it more than any other person I've met. I can't do it. Something in me won't let me. Maybe it's my conscience, but I just can't do it, and I curse myself for my weakness.

I sit here and cough for a minute until my breathing returns to normal and my blurry vision clears up. My breathing is short and my lungs are exhausted, my ribs sore. Then, I take the Captain's coat and hat and make my way to the garage.

Hayes and Hammerback are there waiting for me. Doc Hammerback looks concerned when he gets a good view of me.

"God Major, what happened?" He starts to look at whatever cuts and bruises I have.

I brush his medical prodding aside. "It doesn't matter. I said things wouldn't go completely according to plan. Let's go."

We get into the truck and Hayes starts it up. We make our way to the gate. The gate guard looks completely confused.

"What is this?" He asks. I mentally congratulate myself for understanding him.

Hayes starts taking saying that Captain Kressing is personally escorting out one of the prisoners that two of his men had earlier forgotten to take for execution.

The guard looks skeptical and turns to me. "Seems rather trivial for you to be worrying about Sir."

I talk in my most authoritative, harsh, German voice. "You are not trained to question the orders of your superior soldier. Open the damned gate or your next!" I sound eerily like Kressing when I talk like this.

The guard nervously mumbles some kind of apology and opens the gate. He gives me the Nazi salute and I return it with feigned enthusiasm. Even faking that salute disgusts me.

We head out of the camp. I feel some excitement building up in my chest. _We're almost out_.

Hayes drives the car into the forest. The others must be around here somewhere. I decide to try and call out one of our code words.

"Clubs."

A few moments pass, then another, very welcome voice calls back. "Spades." It's Flack.

The other four rush up to us, everyone looking relieved and thrilled. Flack and Messer have already shed their German uniforms.

"Major we did it!" Ross says excitedly.

"We aren't out of this yet Private. Get in your car. Stella told me that she will meet us in Umberetto. It's due east of here a couple of miles. Remember, this isn't over until we are back behind Allied lines. Let's get going."

A dazed and in pain Captain Kressing wakes up in a confused state. For a brief moment he doesn't remember anything. Then he realizes his coat and hat are missing. Taylor. Kressing remembers confronting the American, fighting with him and then passing out. He has been beaten in this round, but Kressing is not about to concede defeat.

The Captain brushes himself off and storms out of the deserted American barracks. He rounds up his men, including the three that were also attacked by the Americans.

Kressing's voice quivers with rage. "Men those Americans have escaped! Mobilize search parties! Go in groups of four. Sound the alarms! Wake the Commandant! Use deadly force! We are not taking any prisoners! Except one; leave Major Taylor to me! MOVE OUT!"

The German soldiers scramble to follow the Captain's orders. Kressing goes to the radio room and orders the soldier manning it to turn to a set frequency. That frequency being the radio in the car that First Sergeant Niepper is driving.

"Niepper speaking."

"First Sergeant, get that damned woman!"

"Sorry Sir but I can't find her."

"What the hell do you mean?" Kressing is almost purple with anger.

"Sir, Naples is a big city. It will take some time."

"YOU IDIOT!" Kressing explodes. "You were duped Niepper. She is helping these damn Americans out right now. Get back to Umberetto! These bastards are on the run! Find her! Find them all!"

_Good? Bad? This one is a lot longer than my other chapters but please don't let that stop you from submitting a review. Don't worry, we still have a ways to go and our heroes are not out of danger yet. Stay tuned._


	29. Miles to Go

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks for the warm response to Chapter 28. A note: for the next few chapters, I'm going to change some history a bit to help the story move along. Anyways, here is Chapter 29. Enjoy._

**Chapter 29: Miles to Go**

Commandant von Touffel is as angry as his brutal subordinate. Those damnable Americans escaped right under his nose.

"Captain Kressing." Von Touffel summons his subordinate.

Kressing comes in now with a new uniform on. "What is it Commandant? We are busy organizing a hunting party."

Von Touffel ears perk up at that last phrase 'hunting party'. "Captain, if you are going after them, get reinforcements from the Wehrmacht."

Kressing gives his commander a bemused look. "Sir, you really should listen to the radio more often."

"What do you mean?" Von Touffel asks, puzzled.

"Sir, the Wehrmacht will soon be going on the attack. The High Command has ordered the Wehrmacht to drive the Allies out of Southern Italy with a massive offensive."

Instead of being cheered by this, Von Touffel is irritated. "When was the High Command going to inform us of this?"

"With all due respect Sir, they probably didn't want the Americans finding out."

Von Touffel groans. "Captain, we have to deal with the Americans before they have a chance to reach Allied territory. We don't know what they know. If it turns out that the Americans know about this offensive and tell the Allies, it will be _both_ our heads."

"Yes Sir. Just one question Sir; do I have your permission to use whatever methods may be necessary?"

Von Touffel considers it for a moment. Kressing is basically asking for a free hand, which means that many people will die. However, the alternative, letting the Americans reaching their lines, is too great a risk. Not just for von Touffel or Kressing's careers, but for the whole German war effort.

There is no choice.

"Captain Kressing, you have my permission to do what is necessary to prevent the Americans from reaching their lines."

Kressing gets a wicked smile. This is the first piece of good news he's heard in a while.

"Thank you Sir. Heil Hitler!"

"Carry out your orders Captain."

"You have got to be kidding me! Can't you fix it?"

"What tools do you want me to use Danny?"

"Anything! We have to get moving!"

Our luck seems to have run out the moment we meet up outside the camp. We've gotten lost in the woods and on top of that, the German car we stole has broken down. Ross is frantically trying to repair it, but that is taking a lot of time, which we don't have.

"This is why we are winning the war. The Germans can't even give their army a working car." Flack comments dryly.

Ross is intensely looking at the engine, and I'm hoping against hope that he can get this damn car working again.

Eventually, Ross kicks the side of the car in frustration. "Major, I'm sorry Sir, but this thing is dead. Without the proper tools, I can't get this stupid car running."

I feel a headache coming on. "It's alright Private."

"What do we do Sir?" Hawkes asks me.

The truth is, I don't know. Losing two vehicles would be bad, but in a way, losing one is worse. With one vehicle, we might be forced to split up, which I'm loathed to do.

"Sir?"

Like I told them before we started, you have to improvise when things don't go your way. "We're lost and down a vehicle. We need to head east, that is where Umberetto is. We'll use the grenade that Jess gave us to set a trap using these cars. At the least it will slow them down."

Ross, Flack and I set up the trap. Flack pulls the shoe laces out of his boots and ties one to the door handle and the other to the grenade. Ross positions the cars so that they are facing each other, meaning that the gas tanks are close. Finally I place the grenade so that it can't be spotted, but the explosion will reach the gas tank. I hope Kressing is the one who sets off the grenade. The trap is set.

"What now Major?"

"Now we walk. If Umberetto is as close as Stella gives the impression it is, we should be there in a few hours."

Our group starts walking. Hopefully, we'll make it to Umberetto just after midnight.

Kressing gathers his men one more time before they head out to hunt down the Americans.

"I want all but two of you to follow the Americans. Track them down. Private Schrader, Corporal Jammer, you will come with me. We are going into Umberetto. As I said men, use whatever force you want on them, but leave Major Taylor to me. I want to kill him myself, nice and slow. Move out!"

In Umberetto, Stella and Jess wait nervously. It's been several hours and they haven't heard a thing about how the escape attempt went. Each of them is imaging a hundred different things going wrong.

"Stella, I can't take it anymore. This waiting is driving me crazy."

"I know Jess, but what are we going to do?"

"Where are they going to stay when they get here?"

"We need to keep them hidden until we are ready to head out to San Giovanni's. Jess, I need to go find them. I know this area better than anyone else. They can't stay here; it will be the first place the Germans look. There is actually an abandoned barn on the other side of town. It will be the perfect place to hide them. Let's get the supplies we need and head there. I'll drop you off so you can get things ready for them and then I'll head off to find them."

Jess nods. "Alright. Be careful Stella."

They gather up what they need and Stella drops off Jess at the barn. She then starts heading west. She is going out to find them. It is dangerous, she could run into the Germans after all, but it is a risk she is going to take.

Lieutenant Johan Schmidt orders his men to fan out and search the woods. He feels a great sense of pride at having been chosen by Captain Kressing to head up this part of the search party. The Captain gave Schmidt wide latitude to conduct their hunt, which means that Schmidt has a chance for glory, which is what he really wants out of this war.

"Lieutenant! Over here Sir!" One of his men waves to him. Schmidt and the rest of the German patrol heads over to the voice.

Corporal Groeber is the one who called out. The Corporal points at what appears to be two vehicles parked in the woods.

Groeber talks in an excited way "Sir that's the car the Americans stole from the Camp. They must be nearby. We've caught up to them Sir."

"Groeber, you and Wittens search the cars; see if they left anything behind."

The two soldiers head up cautiously to the car.

"Something is wrong Sir." Sergeant Monstardt comments to Schmidt. "Why would they abandon their fastest method of transportation?"

"I'm not sure Sergeant. Remember though, these Americans are on the run. They probably panicked about something and just left the cars here."

"Maybe."

Groeber and Wittens search through one of the cars and find nothing. They make their way to the other car and Groeber opens the door to begin searching it. A few seconds pass and nothing happens.

"This is too easy." Groeber comments

Unfortunately for Corporal Groeber, that is the last thing he says on this earth. By opening the door, he pulled the string attached to the grenade and it lets its presence known by going off. The grenade was positioned close to the cars gas tank that it set off a chain reaction of three separate explosions. Groeber and Wittens, who are standing right beside the cars, are instantly consumed in flames and killed. Others, like Lieutenant Schmidt and Sergeant Monstardt, are temporarily blinded and thrown back to the ground. Still others suffer injuries as the two vehicles continue to burn.

Schmidt has his hands over his eyes, shielding them from the continuing fire. "Damn them! Damn those Americans to hell! AFTER THEM!"

Captain Kressing, Corporal Jammer, and Private Schrader do not go directly to Umberetto. Instead, Kressing directs Jammer, who is driving, to head north of the town, on the road leading to Naples. There he orders them to stop and wait. Jammer and Schrader are very confused but follow Kressing's orders anyways.

Finally, another car comes racing down the road from Naples heading to Umberetto. Kressing knows who is driving it and stops them.

"About time you showed up Niepper."

"Damn these Italians Sir."

"I agree Niepper. When we get to town, we're going to find Ms. Bonasera and take _her_ prisoner. That's how we are going to draw out those Americans when they get to this town."

"Yes Sir, but there is one thing I want to do first."

"What is it?"

"I want to talk to one of my informants. It's the kind of talk you'll like Captain."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Kressing gets in Niepper's car as the two of them and Corporal Jammer and Private Schrader follow behind them, heading to Umberetto.

My men and I easily hear the explosion from the trap we set. The good news is that that means the Germans fell for it and some of them are probably dead. The bad news is that they are catching up. We continue walking, now at a faster pace. We need to get as much distance between the Germans and us as possible. Unfortunately, a new sound enters into my hearing, one that I've been expecting, but still dreading. It's the sound of multiple jeeps coming from behind.

"What's that?" Doc Hammerback asks, his hearing is not as good as mine.

"German jeeps." I say grimly.

The sound of the jeeps gets closer and closer.

"RUN NOW!" I order them.

We take off, desperately hoping to hide from them, because there is no way we can outrun them now. Then, a light shines from behind us. Damn it, they caught up with us.

"Split up! No matter what, get to the town!" I yell over the sound of jeep engines. Three of my men go one way, three the other. The headlights still shine on me. _If they follow me that means they aren't chasing the others_ I tell myself.

A new sound emerges, worse than any other. It is the sound of guns and bullets being discharged. I see dirt splattering around me. _Oh God they are shooting at me_ a part of my mind shouts.

Somehow, I manage to dodge the bullets being fired at me until I spot what looks like a drop off ahead of me. I get out of the sight of the headlights long enough to run up to the edge of it and literally fall off it. It is a natural drop off and I quickly hide under it. The jeeps that were chasing me stop and I hear snippets of the Germans talking with each other, trying to determine where I've gone. The sound of their boots crushing plant life gets closer and I see the shadows of several people. I hold my breath and wait, my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, they give up and go back to their jeeps and head out. I release the breath I had been holding. After a while, I risk getting out of this drop off and start making my way east again, now alone and unsure of what has happened to my men.

The other escaping Americans find their own cover in the woods. The two groups quickly meet up again, relieved that everyone is here. Except…

"Where is the Major?" Hawkes asks.

"I thought he was with your group." Danny says back nervously.

"We thought he was with you." Hawkes says, just as nervous as his friend.

"We have to find him. He doesn't have a hope in hell of surviving without help." Flack declares.

The conversation stops as yet another car appears from the distance.

"Oh no." Hayes mutters.

"Wait, that isn't a German jeep, it's a car." Adam says with relief.

Even more lucky for them, inside this car is Stella, who is immensely relieved to see them okay. Except for the Major.

"Where's Mac?" She asks hotly.

Sid quickly explains what happened and Stella's fear only grows.

"Damn it." She swears in frustration. "Alright look, you need to get out of here. Umberetto isn't far. Just head east a less than a mile and you'll find the town. Head straight through town and you'll find a barn that looks abandoned on the other side. Jess is there getting things ready for you."

"Jess is there!" Flack exclaims.

Stella nods. "Yes she is, and she won't like to be kept waiting. Go now. I'm going to find Mac."

The men continue their journey east while Stella heads into the forested area, determined to find the lost Major Taylor.

_Good? Bad? Another longer chapter this time, but don't worry, we still have a ways to go. If you have any comments or suggestions, don't hesitate to leave a review._


	30. Breaking Point

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks again for all the reviews, alerts and everything else. Here is Chapter 30. Just a warning; there will be several unpleasant scenes in this Chapter. Enjoy. _

**Chapter 30: Breaking Point**

The six remaining Americans; Flack, Messer, Ross, Hammerback, Hawkes and Hayes continue their journey to Umberetto. Mostly the men walk in silence and mostly they think about their lost commander.

"Do you think they caught up with the Major?" Adam asks grimly.

"Don't think about it Adam. Concentrate on walking." Flack tells him.

"Are you sure we're going the right way Tom?" Hawkes asks the Staff Sergeant who is leading them.

"Typical city slicker; never even _seen_ a forest have you Doc?" Hayes mocks.

"Some of us got to grow up in more _civilized_ areas." Hawkes retorts.

"I would hardly call Detroit civilized Doc." Hayes shoots back. Both men's tempers start rising. Neither man is in the mood for the other.

"At least someone who looks like me can actually go to a restaurant or a public bathroom in Detroit." Hawkes points out, his tone sharp.

Hayes stops walking and stares directly at Hawkes. "Sorry if I don't measure up to your expectations as a Southerner _Doc_." Sarcasm drips from the Staff Sergeant's words. "Sorry if I haven't talked about the War of Northern Aggression. Sorry, but there hasn't been a lynching in my county for over 50 years. Sorry, that I'm not nearly as dumb as you think we Southerners are."

Hawkes doesn't back down. "Well Staff Sergeant, if your part of the world is _so_ civilized, then why did my family have to migrate to the North? You know the part of the country where they don't have _colored only_ or _whites only_ signs. Your precious South is about as civilized as Germany."

Hayes boils in anger at Hawkes's words. "You take that back you… you…"

"You what?" Hawkes goads. "Afraid to say it? Go ahead Tom, say it."

"Fine!" Hayes explodes. "You want me to say it? Fine I'll say it. You take that back you _nigger_!"

Hawkes lashes out, tackling Hayes and the two of them fall to the ground and start wrestling and landing a shot or two at each other. Flack and Messer rush to pull the two men apart. Neither of them resists too much and they just glare at each other. Hawkes's lip is bleeding and Hayes has a bruise on his cheek.

"That's enough!" Sid says sharply. "For God's sake, you both are well educated men. Not to mention the fact that we have half the German Army after us AND your commanding officer is missing. He might have been captured or worse and you two are busy hitting each other over things we can't solve. Deal with these issues later when our lives aren't on the line."

The other five men look at the older doctor with astonishment and silence. Not even when he was dealing with a sick Danny had any of them heard Sid talk like this.

"Keep leading Staff Sergeant." Sid orders Tom.

"Oh… okay." The Staff Sergeant mumbles and starts heading east. The trip continues in silence.

In the quite of the journey, the other three men absorb what happened between Hawkes and Hayes. It is upsetting to the three of them; after all, like Sid said, both of them are educated and civilized people, and yet they still are reduced to fighting each other because of race and where they are from.

Eventually, Danny can't stand the silence anymore. "Where are the Germans?" he wonders aloud.

This time it's Flack who loses his cool. "Can't you shut up for five minutes?!"

"I don't know Don, you want to try and make me?" Danny says dangerously.

Flack thinks about it for a minute. A part of him is tempted to fire back, but he decides to keep his cool.

"Forget about it." Flack says dismissively. Danny wisely decides to let the matter drop.

_Come on Major, we need you._ Sid thinks to himself. To the Doc, it seems like their group might kill each other before they get to Umberetto.

Damn it. The one thing I didn't want to happen was to have my men separated. Now not only am I lost, but I don't know what has happened to them. _They could be dead for all I know_ I think darkly.

The strain of running from the German jeeps, combined with my fight with Kressing has taken a toll on me. My adrenaline is spent. What I wouldn't give for a chance to rest now, but I can't. I'm not going to rest until I meet up with my men and we are safely in the safe house in Umberetto.

I know what way is east so I wander almost aimlessly in that direction. The forest is thinning out so I hope I'm getting closer to civilization. I need to get out of this forest.

Flack thinks he is just imagining it when he first sees what look like buildings in the distance.

"Is that?" He's almost nervous to believe it.

"Yep, that must be it. Umberetto." Adam confirms.

"Someone else want to take over? I'm not much use in cities." Hayes asks from the front.

"I'll do it." Danny comments as he heads up front.

Danny leads them up to the small town of Umberetto. It is more of a village than a town. There are maybe a dozen buildings in the whole place that are more than two stories. The streets have been deserted for a long time by this point in the evening. The six of them quietly head through town, relieved by the peacefulness of the town and more importantly, it's lack of any Germans.

They continue walking through town a sense of relief and anticipation washing over all of them. The War seems far away from this little town.

"What was the place Ms. Stella said we should go to?" Danny asks as he scans every building.

"A barn on the other side of town. That's where Jess is." Flack's heart skips a beat thinking about it. He's close to Jess and this time, there won't be anything keeping him from her.

They cut through the center of town and all of them keep a scrutinizing eye, looking for the barn.

"There it is." Adam points to a building off by itself. They rush over to it.

Flack calls out. "Hey Jess. We're here."

A lone figure comes out of the barn. It's Jess. Flack doesn't care what the others think; he rushes up to her and wraps her in a long, sustained embrace. The two of them hold onto each other while the rest of the men stand back and let the two of them have their moment.

"I love you Jess." Flack whispers to her, holding her like he'll never let her go.

"I love you too Don."

Where the hell is the town? I've been walking for what seems like forever and I feel that I'm no closer to finding my men or Umberetto. I'm frustrated and angry but more than that, I'm exhausted. I want to do nothing more than just find a place to sit down and rest.

Everything starts to look the same to me. I'm so tired. I need to rest somewhere, otherwise I'll collapse right here. _No, keep going. Rest later damn it _I scold myself. This is no time to stop. I have to keep going.

My weary, tired frame drags forward. God I hope my men are okay. I haven't seen the Germans ever since I dodged their attempt to run us down. They have to be okay, they are smarter than the Germans. They'll be okay.

A light appears in the distance. _Germans_ I tell myself. The bastards caught up with me. Using basically my last reserves of energy, I make my way over to the bushes and hide. If they find me, they'll have an easy time capturing me.

The closer the car gets, the more puzzled I get. Why is there only one and why can't I hear their voices?

The car passes by me and I realize I've made a huge mistake. That's not a German car, it's Stella! What the hell I she doing out here? _Looking for you genius_ I say to myself. I quickly scramble out from the bushes and using energy I didn't know I still had to rush after her.

"Stella! Stella!" I call out, hoping and praying she hears me. The car stops and she gets out.

"Mac!" I can't think of a more welcome sound than her calling out my name. She runs to me.

She hugs me tightly "God Mac, you look exhausted."

"I'm fine."

She keeps her hold on me. "You're lying, but I don't care. I've been so worried about you."

"What are you doing out here Stella? It's dangerous. The Germans could be anywhere."

"I met up with your men and they told me what happened."

"Are they okay? Please tell me Stella." I ask her quickly. I have to know.

"Yes they are fine and when I met up with them, they were getting close to the town."

"Thank God." I feel very relieved. Now that I know they are fine, I can concentrate on getting myself and Stella to them.

She holds me close. "I missed you."

"I missed you too Stella." I look her in those beautiful eyes. "We need to get going."

"Let's go then." She leads me to her car. It feels wonderful to sit down and if I was in any other company, I'd probably fall asleep. Luckily for both of us I don't because out of the corner of my eye, I see what looks like more headlights.

"Stella, hurry, the Germans are heading this way."

She steps on the gas and our car starts racing towards Umberetto, still one step ahead of the Germans.

After ordering Private Schrader and Corporal Jammer to secure them lodging in town for the night, Kressing and Niepper head to another part of Umberetto to deal with a personal matter.

First Sergeant Niepper and Captain Kressing both glare at the short young man standing before them, as his eyes trying to convey a bravery he doesn't feel. Niepper backhands him across the face and the boy staggers back.

"You lied to me kid. You said that Ms. Bonasera was heading to Naples. She never did." Niepper accuses.

"No! I'm sure I saw her leave for Naples. Believe me; I'm on your side!" Sal begs.

Kressing snorts at him in disgust. "The only people on our side are our fellow Germans. You are a filthy Italian and a traitor."

"Please don't hurt me! Please! I'll tell you anything, do anything for you. Please!"

Both Germans look at the pleading young man with contempt and Kressing speaks for them. "Well, since you are a traitor, we will do with you what we do to traitors."

The two Germans drag Sal away.

"No please!" He cries out fruitlessly.

We make it to the city quicker than I expected. The Wehrmacht is still on our tail trying to catch us. Stella has told me that she found a place for us to hide for the evening and that the rest of our group is probably already there. Stella decides to park her car outside of town since the Germans know it well.

I can tell that Stella seems to feel that something is wrong when we get into town. There is something in the air that portends, practically shouts that there is a problem. She leads me through the streets, heading towards whatever safe place she has arranged. We turn a corner into what would be a market and the sight there makes us both stop cold. Stella gasps audibly and I have to cover her mouth before she screams and alerts everyone to our presence.

Because there is a young man, maybe 20 years old, and he has been hung from a lamppost. Stella moves towards him, covering her own mouth in shock and horror. What's worse, a slight breeze picks up, and the boy's body begins to gently, almost passively sway like a tree branch.

"Oh God Sal." Stella mutters terribly. I have a fear that she is going to start yelling or burst into tears, either of which would inform everyone where we are. I grab her by the shoulders.

"Stel." I say quietly.

She hears me, but only in the technical sense. Her mind does not process that I said something or that I'm right beside her. I look closely at the hanging body. I notice some scratch marks around the neck near the rope. My skin crawls as I realize what they mean; this young man hadn't died right away. Hangings are supposed to be simple; the neck snaps and it is over. That hadn't happened. This boy had struggled and tore at the rope. He was slowly strangled to death by it, an agonizing way to die.

_Kressing_ I think to myself. It has to be that sadistic bastard. He has to die before this war is over. For the sake of humanity, he needs to die. An awful sense of guilt invades my soul. I had a chance to kill him and I didn't do it. Now this kid is dead. God damn it.

Swallowing my own guilt I gently squeeze on Stella's arm to try and get her attention.

"Stel. We need to leave. The Germans will be here any minute."

Her eyes remain on the dead body. "We have to cut him down." She says in a listless monotone.

I shake my head. "We can't Stella. We don't have time."

She turns to look at me with daggers in her eyes. "I'm not leaving him up there for his parents to find like this."

I feel terrible for her and I want nothing more than to agree with her and give her comfort. To hug her like she did to me, but right now, there is no time for comfort or sorrow. "If we don't leave now the Germans will catch us. We have to get to this safe place of yours otherwise we're dead. Please Stella." My pleading eyes meeting up with her sorrow-filled ones.

Without saying a word, she turns and starts walking away. I look up at the body. "Don't worry kid. We'll get them for this." I mutter and turn back to walk with Stella.

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about any of this, please don't hesitate to give me a review. A note to my British readers; don't forget to vote on Thursday._


	31. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks for all the kind reviews, alerts and everything else_. _Here is Chapter 31. Enjoy._

**Chapter 31: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished**

Stella leads me to the safe house, which turns out to be an abandoned barn. She hasn't said a word to me ever since we found the dead body of that kid, Sal. I feel awful about all of this. If I hadn't been such a damn coward, I could have killed Kressing and Sal would still be alive. But I was weak and now he is hanging from a lamppost.

"Here" Stella grunts. I don't know if she is angrier at me or the Germans, but having her honestly, genuinely angry makes me ache inside.

Stella opens the door. The others are sitting in there talking. They fall silent when we come in.

"Major!" Messer scrambles to his feet and comes to give me a salute before shaking hands. "Good to have you back Sir."

The rest of them come up to greet us, but Flack and the woman his arm is wrapped around wait for the greetings to die down a bit before coming up to me.

"Major." Flack says "this is Jess Angell, the woman I love."

"Otherwise known as Senorita Isabella Fernandez Major." She smiles.

"Thank you Ms. Angell. On behalf of all us, thank you." I tell her and she keeps that smile which has so captivated Sergeant Flack.

When the euphoria of everyone being together dissipates, I notice that something seems off. Hawkes has a busted lip and Hayes has a purplish bruise on his face. Both of them clearly don't want to talk about it, but I've seen them enough to know what has probably happened; they got into something which started over something trivial and it erupted into a full-blown fight. I'm sure someone gave them all kinds of hell for it, because if I had been there, I would have.

Catching a look at everyone's face, I can tell that they all are worn out and exhausted. And this is only day one. We still have a long way to go if we are going to get back to Allied lines to safety. Now we also have two civilians with us, although I have no doubt that both Jess and Stella can handle themselves in a tough situation. They already are.

_Stella_. She left my side almost immediately when we got here. I know she's mad at me, and I know why. A heavy guilt has settled on my soul. I should have killed Kressing. I should have let her take the body down. I can't let her have such a terrible burden on her mind.

I'm going to do something for her.

* * *

Everyone else has fallen asleep or is preoccupied, either way, they won't be bothering me. I have to get something done, for Stella. I quietly head out of the barn and go back into town. It is several hours before sunrise so the streets are still deserted. I try and remember my way around town. I take at least one wrong turn before I make my way to the center market. There Sal's hanging body drifts slightly in the breeze. I let out a sigh. He was just a kid who got caught up in this war. I head over to the lamppost and take out the knife I stole from Kressing. There is a crate nearby that I carry over and stand on while I use the knife to cut him down. Sal's body collapses to the ground with a thud. I head over to the body and sit on the crate. I try to proceed as delicately as I can to at least make him look dignified. Poor kid.

My work complete, I decide to head back to the barn where everyone else is. I'll come up with some lie about what I've been doing.

The moment I stand up, a clicking noise stops my heart cold.

"Don't move Major." A voice with a thick German accent says to me. A cold metallic barrel presses against my cheek. "You make a sound Major and I'll kill you without a second thought. Nod your head slowly if you understand." Hopeless and trapped, I do as he says. "Good boy." He says patronizingly. It isn't Kressing, I know that bastards voice too well. This is someone else, which only makes me feel a little less nervous.

"Let's start walking. Don't try to be a hero."

"That boy you killed is a hero, not me." I spit back at him.

"Hero? Hardly. He was just a stupid kid who didn't know to stay on the winning side and shut up."

"Who are you then?"

He steps out in front of me, the gun still pointed at my face. I've seen his face before, but I don't recognize him, especially since he is out of uniform.

"Still don't recognize me? Fine, I'm First Sergeant Niepper, the eyes and ears of Commandant von Touffel and Captain Kressing here in Umbretto."

Niepper. This is one who has been following Stella.

The First Sergeant grins when he sees that I recognize him. "Your Italian whore must have told you all about me."

I absolutely boil in rage at him. How dare this son of bitch say that about Stella!?

"When I get out of this, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

He scoffs at me. "Our mutual friend Captain Hans Kressing told me you made a similar threat to him, and yet he still lives. Keep walking Major and quit talking. I don't like the sound of you talking."

I have to find some way out of this mess. This bastard is smart though; it won't be easy.

"You know Major, you should feel privileged. We are under orders to just kill every American we find, except you. Captain Kressing wants to do that personally. I must say, in all the time I've known Hans, I've never seen someone get to him like you."

"Good." I can't resist shooting off my mouth.

Instantly, pain erupts on the side of my head and I collapse to the ground. Niepper had hit me on the side of the head with his gun.

"I told you to keep quite Major." He proceeds to kick me in face, adding more pain and agony. Black spots start appearing in my vision. He kicks me in the shoulder. All I feel is pain and I let out a soft moan. I realize he isn't going to take me to Kressing; Niepper wants to kill me himself and I'm powerless to stop him. I know another kick is coming and I don't think I can take it without passing out.

It never comes. Instead, what sounds like something wooden crashes into Niepper and he falls to the ground beside me blood pouring out of his head. My vision is so blurry I can't even tell who my rescuer is.

"Mac!" It's Stella; my beautiful Italian savior. She leans over me and uses one of her hands to help me lift my head up and in the other she has a cloth that's wiping blood off of my face.

"Stel." I say quietly, my mind not really concentrating.

"I'm here Mac."

She sits here with me, waiting for me to recover. Eventually my vision returns to normal but the headache remains. It probably will linger for a long time.

"Help me up Stel." I feel her arm grab under my shoulder as I unsteadily get to my feet. Stella stares at me with a mixture of worry and anger.

"Stop trying to get yourself killed you idiot!" If it was appropriate to yell, she would.

"Sorry." I mumble an inadequate apology. I can't really say anything else if I wanted to. Every time I talk my head starts ringing.

"Sorry? Mac what the hell are you doing out here?"

I point with my thumb to the lamppost where Sal used to be hanging. "Had to get him down." I grunt.

That doesn't seem to satisfy her. "You were going to get yourself killed over that?" She seems exasperated by the very thought of it.

"It's what you wanted."

She doesn't respond to that. Instead she turns to head back to the barn. "Do you need help?" She asks me.

"I'm fine."

We make our way back to the barn. Everyone else is still asleep thankfully. I don't want to have to rehash what has happened. I go over to the area that's been fixed up for me and drift off to sleep, hoping and praying that this blinding headache goes away.

* * *

Stella watches as the Major takes what'll probably be nothing but a quick nap. She is still thinking about what Mac had said to her back in town. _It's what you wanted_. She feels a great sense of guilt. It was her anger and passion that drove Mac to go out and nearly get himself killed. She is quite touched though; he went through all that for her.

He is quite a remarkable man.

* * *

Captain Kressing wakes up early and finds that Niepper is gone. What would that fool be doing up so early? Kressing notices that Jammer and Schrader are still asleep; lazy good for nothings.

Kressing gets dressed and heads out of his lodging. He goes to the market square. He wants to watch the Italians as they find the dead body of their spy. Instead, he finds the dead body of Franz Niepper. The splinters of a wooden crate are near his crushed head where blood is still pouring out. Kressing swears a string of curses; Niepper was as close to an acquaintance as Kressing had. Kressing also notices that the body of the Italian boy has been caught down. Taylor. He must have killed Niepper and cut down the Italian.

Kressing storms back to the German lodging and yells at Jammer and Schrader to wake them up.

"Niepper is dead and you two will be if you don't start moving! Jammer you get a radio and find out where the hell Lieutenant Schmidt and the rest of the troops are! Schrader you and I are going to find these Americans and kill every last one of them. Move out!"

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about this chapter or this story in general, don't hesitate to send a review._


	32. Silent Night

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks once again for all the very kind reviews, alerts and everything else. Here is Chapter 32. Enjoy._

**Chapter 32: Silent Night**

It seems like I barely get to sleep when a noise wakes me up. It is a soft noise; of tears and sorrows. I pull myself out of sleep and find Stella by herself, crying softly. I head over to her, ignoring the throbbing headache that has been my constant companion ever since our encounter with the late First Sergeant Niepper.

"Stella are you okay?" I ask her softly.

She looks up at me and at first I think she wants to say 'I'm fine', but she doesn't. Instead, she says to me in a tear-choked voice "I've never killed anyone before Mac."

I sit down beside her and put my arm around her. She turns and buries her head into my shoulder. She continues to softly cry.

"It's okay Stella. It's okay" I whisper to her reassuringly. She doesn't say anything else and I just continue to hold her close to me. This day has been hell for her and she doesn't need a pep talk or anything like that. Right now, she just needs a friend and a shoulder to cry on. I know she won't do this in front of everyone else; the fact that she continues to do it in front of me is an affirmation of the trust she has in me. It's something I won't ever take for granted.

Later that morning after everyone else has had sufficient rest, we eat whatever Stella and Jess had been able to stash here; mostly breads and cheeses. Messer, with a mischievous grin on his face, wonders aloud if there is any Italian wine available as well. I shoot him a look and he wisely drops the idea.

Now we have to head out. Stella already told me that she has another place waiting for us; a church where the priest is another member of the Resistance. She also said we can probably make it by sundown. Everyone appears to be ready. All of my men and I are carrying a bag with some food for the days trip. It's time to leave, before we cause the people in this town any more problems.

As we begin the next phase of our journey, I notice how close Flack and Jess are walking together. They are in love; even a blind man could see that, but I'm concerned. I'm worried that Flack will be overprotective of her or may not act like a soldier because of her. Of course, Flack didn't go into town at night and nearly get himself killed either.

Luckily for all of us the day brings mild weather so the walk is not too uncomfortable. In fact, in many ways it is actually pleasant. It gets me thinking how I might want to come back here when the war is over to visit. Claire always wanted to visit Italy. If we hadn't gone to Paris on our honeymoon, we would have come here.

Looking at my men, I notice that Messer seems to be eager about something, almost like he is expecting something good to happen. I admire his optimism. In fact, everyone seems to be enjoying the surprisingly easy time we are having. I try to shelve my own concerns and enjoy it too. In the back of my mind though, I have the almost certain feeling that this won't last.

Stella is leading the way and I'm right beside her. I've been wondering for a while what is going to happen to her once we get to the Allied lines. The brass better not treat her with anything less than an opened arm welcome. If they do disrespect her, I'll raise all kinds of hell and make their lives miserable. I'm also unsure as to how they'll deal with me. My unit was ambushed, everyone but me was killed, at least that I know of. That'll require an explanation and maybe even a formal inquiry which in my opinion will be a total waste of time. It is sad really that the Army would rather spend their time questioning what happened in the heat of battle instead of actually winning the war.

We continue our journey to the church, stopping only once to have a quick meal before we keep going. We have to get to this church before nightfall and we have to get as far away from the Germans as we possibly can.

Waiting in San Giovanni's Church with Father Immanuel is a surprisingly patient Lindsey Monroe. She is still worried sick about Danny and the rest of them, but Father Immanuel has been a steady reassuring voice. "God will protect them." He has assured her. _Yeah but I wish God would hurry up_ Lindsay says to herself privately.

Father Immanuel can tell that Lindsay is still tense "My dear, our friends Stella and Jessica are very intelligent, resourceful women. I'm sure your Danny and the rest of the men are as well. Have faith in God and have faith in them."

Lindsay sighs. "I'm trying to Father. It's just hard."

"I know. Offer it up to the Almighty."

Instead of continuing to sit still, Lindsay gets up to head outside. She's done this several times already, each time with the small but sincere hope that she'll spot him. This time, she can't tell if it is the sun in her eyes or if she is hallucinating. Either way, she sees what she can best describe as a group of dark figures coming towards them. Lindsay calls back inside the church.

"Father! Someone is coming this way!"

The priest comes out as well. They are getting closer and Lindsay can make out individual shapes. There are nine of them and as they get even closer, Lindsay can see faces now. At the lead is a man she's never seen dressed in an American uniform and the other is Stella.

"It's them Father. It's Stella and everyone else."

"Thanks be to God." The priest says.

Looking at them frantically, Lindsay finally sees the sight she has longed for. There he is, looking scruffy but to her still handsome. She leaves Father Immanuel's side and starts running at them, a great, wide smile across her face.

"Danny!" She calls out, her heart thrilled to be able to see his face and call his name.

"Lindsay!" Now he is calling her and running towards her. The rest of them melt from existence as the two meet halfway and much like Don and Jess did the day before, take each other in a warm, loving embrace.

I watch as Messer runs to meet the young woman dressed in a habit. This must be Nurse Lindsay Monroe that he has talked so much about.

"You'll be in trouble with the Lord for going after a nun Messer." Flack calls out.

"Shut up Don." Messer retorts good naturedly, still holding the woman he loves in his arms. He then introduces us to Lindsay. She fits into our group perfectly. The sun has just gone down.

We enter into this church; San Giovanni is what Stella calls it. The priest, Father Immanuel, is more than happy to shelter us and even provide a hot meal. Even better, the church has something I prize more than almost anything; a shower and a wash bin. It's been so long since any of us that were in the camp have had a chance to get clean and wash our clothes. We each take turns; one heads to the shower while another washes whatever articles of clothing they want. When my turn comes for the shower, the water isn't even that warm anymore, but it feels damn good to get all the grime and dirt off me. The moral of everyone goes up after this. Not only are we at least temporarily free of the Germans, but now we have cleaned off and are wearing somewhat clean clothes.

Later that evening, a couple of real nuns from the local abbey come and serenade us with hymns. The only thing is they know only one song in English; Silent Night. So, they sing it several times along with some other hymns in Italian and Latin.

Father Immanuel assured us that it would be okay for us to stay in the church for the night. Slowly, and almost one by one, the rest of the group falls asleep. Messer and Lindsay in one area, Flack and Jess in another. The other four; Hawkes, Ross, Hammerback and Hayes spread out to their own spaces in the church. I told everyone I would keep watch for the night; I'm not going to sleep anyways, might as well be productive.

After a few hours I assume that everyone is asleep so I head to the front pew and listen to the sisters sing.

"_Silent night_". The singing of the nuns, in fact this whole day has been a peaceful reminder that there are things right now that don't have to do with sorrow, death and this World War.

"_Holy Night_". This was always one of Claire's favorite songs, even when it wasn't Christmas.

"_All is calm, all is bright_." I look around at the others, or at least the ones I can see. They are all asleep and they look at peace.

_"Round yon Virgin Mother and Child_." The calm peacefulness reminds me of Christmas in Chicago a couple of years ago. It was a quiet Christmas, just Claire and me. It was actually one of the sunniest Christmas's I remember the city having. There was fresh snow on the ground so after breakfast, we walked through Grant Park. There was no one else there, just us. Even Chicago was quiet and peaceful. It was one of the best Christmas's I've ever had.

_"Holy infant so tender and mild._" There are ten of us here. Ten of us that are going to try this; cross the German lines and get to a safe place under control of the Allies. It's going to be hard, maybe impossible, but we are going to try.

_"Sleep in heavenly peace._" My eyelids droop and I have to jerk my head to keep myself awake. The soft glow of the candles in the church, combined with the gentle singing of the sisters, not to mention everything that has gone on in the last few days, all make me feel very drowsy. I rest my head on the right side of the pew and close my eyes. _It's only for a second_ I tell myself.

_"Sleep in heavenly peace._" I never hear the second verse as sleep consumes me.

Stella enters into the main part of the church. The hour is very late and the sisters who had been singing have left, bathing the room in silence. She carefully looks around and spots where everyone had fallen asleep. Heading up to the front pew, she finds Major Taylor there in a deep sleep. The Major looks more at peace than she can remember. She watches as his chest gently rises and falls with each breath that he takes. She can't explain or help herself, but she smiles looking at him dozing. Stella feels tiredness starting to bear down upon her as well. As quietly as she can, she sits down in the pew next to him. The Major has his left arm extended on the back of the pew while he rests his head on the right end of it. Careful not to wake him she maneuvers herself beside him and gently wraps his left arm around her. She feels comforted being in his protective embrace. She leans on his shoulder and drifts off to join him in the realm of sleep.

_No cliffhanger or even much danger in this chapter. Don't get too comfortable though; our heroes still have a long way to go. As always if you have an opinion about this chapter or story, don't hesitate to submit a review. _


	33. Dangerous Crossings

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks as always for the kind response. Sorry this took a little longer to post, but I think you'll like it. Here is Chapter 33. Enjoy._

**Chapter 33: Dangerous Crossings**

I'm confused when I wake up. It's not just that I fell asleep, it's that I find my arm wrapped around a sleeping Stella who also is resting on my shoulder. Did I miss something or am I forgetting something?

Quickly glancing around, I see that everyone else is still asleep, but Stella is beginning to stir. She opens her eyes and looks up at me.

"Good morning." I say to her quietly.

She continues to keep her head on my shoulder. "Good morning."

"Did I miss something last night?" I ask her.

She chuckles softly. "No, you didn't miss anything."

"Oh, okay."

She sits up looks at me. "Thanks for being my pillow." She smiles.

"No problem. What do you think we should do now?"

"Let's talk."

"About what?"

"Let's talk about you Mac. Where are you from?"

"Chicago." I'm confused as to where she is going with this.

"Oh." She seems uneasy about the next thing she wants to ask. "Have... have you ever been married Mac?"

I had a gut feeling that this would come up at some point. I've tried to prepare myself for it, bracing myself for the pain it will cause. I let out a long sigh and decide to be honest with her. There really isn't much use to lie when we have a whole camp full of Germans on our tail.

"I was married for many years Stella. My wife's name was Claire. She... we... were made for each other."

"What happened?" She asks with trepidation clear in her voice.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself to relive it all over again. "She was in London, visiting her friend, a woman named Peyton. I told her she shouldn't go, but she insisted. It was when the War was still in France. Claire said she would be okay. The Blitz started while she was there. The Germans were bombing London night after night. I was desperate to get her out and I tried everything I could to make it happen. It didn't work. She died in the Blitz. A German plane had bombed the apartment building where she was staying. They never found her."

She looks at me with a deep sadness in her eyes. "I'm so sorry Mac. I had no idea."

"It's okay."

"No it isn't. That's terrible Mac." She cusps my cheek and softly kisses it. Her face is full of compassion and pity.

There is little time for us to reflect on this because the rest of our group starts waking up.

"I'm going to take a shower Stella. I'll be back in a bit." I sigh and head off. I don't want to stay still after our talk.

* * *

Kressing growls as he paces outside of the German lodging in Umberetto. That idiot Lieutenant Schmidt is definitely taking his time in getting to town. Kressing regrets putting Schmidt in charge. He should have led the search and handed Schmidt over to Niepper. Of course, now Niepper was dead and Schmidt probably would have died too.

In perhaps the only act of kindness he had ever done, Kressing ordered Jammer and Schrader to carry Niepper's body out of Umberetto and bury it in an unmarked grave. He didn't have purely altruistic reasons for doing it though; Kressing didn't want the Italians to see a dead German in their market square. It might inspire them to resist the Germans even more.

Finally, a convoy of trucks and soldiers comes marching into town. The Italians are all in their homes, staying as far away from the Germans as possible. Kressing takes joy that the Italians are still so unnerved by the Germans. So much for wartime alliances.

A haggard looking Lieutenant Schmidt gives Kressing a crisp salute. "I'm sorry Captain, we thought we spotted them and we followed that lead so intently that we got lost. Turns out that it was just some local hunters. Sorry Captain."

Kressing glares at Schmidt with murder in his eyes. The thought of killing Schmidt certainly crosses his mind, but Kressing decides not to. It wouldn't help them in their search for the Americans.

"What are your orders Sir?"

The Captain mulls his options. The Americans could have gone north to Naples where they would get lost in the big city, or they might have gone south to get to the Allies. _What would you do if you were in their shoes_ Kressing thinks? Then, the Captain recalls a conversation he had with Niepper. The First Sergeant mentioned a church to the south of town; San Giovanni's. He had tracked Bonasera to the church. That must be it then.

"Lieutenant Schmidt I hope you prayed today, we are heading to church. MOVE OUT!"

The Germans start their journey south, determined to get to San Giovanni's and catch their elusive prey.

* * *

Stella sighed deeply, more than a little unsettled by the confession that Major Taylor had told her. He had opened up to her and now she finally knows what is haunting him and plaguing his soul. She feels like he has almost entrusted her with a part of himself. But, she has to shelve these thoughts, because everyone else is awake and moving around. The trip from Umberetto and the night spent in the church had been a welcome respite, but deep down, they all knew that it wouldn't last. They had been able to avoid the Germans, but how long could they keep that up?

"Ms. Bonasera how you doing?" Corporal Messer comes up and asks her, a friendly smile on his face.

"I'm okay. How about you Corporal?"

"Just call me Danny; I'm fine, actually, much better now." He smiles back at Lindsay. "Where's the Major?"

"Taking a shower. I think he wanted some warm water. Apparently he didn't get much last time."

"Can't blame me for that. Everyone else were the ones who took their time."

"Watch it Messer." Hawkes calls out, but Danny laughs.

Eventually, everyone else gets a chance to clean up and get ready for their next day of travel.

* * *

The German convoy with Captain Kressing at the front, spots a small, isolated building over the horizon. It's San Giovanni's Church.

"Keep driving Jammer, we're almost there."

* * *

Father Immanuel once again finds himself the bearer of dangerous news; he rushes into the church where we are all almost ready to head out.

"My friends, you need to leave now. A convoy of Germans are heading this way. Get out of here quickly!"

So, the Germans finally caught up with us. I've had a feeling that this is what would happen. Really, the easy time we had yesterday was a fluke. This is what it is going to be like; running desperately to stay one step of the Germans.

"Let's go everyone, now." They are starting to scramble.

"There is an exit on the other side of the church. The Germans shouldn't be able to see you leave."

I extend my hand to shake his. "Thank you Father."

He makes the Sign of the Cross. "May God protect you and your men Major. Just make sure _you_ protect these women."

"We will."

"Good. God be with you."

We rush to the other exit that Father Immanuel told us about. Another wooded area is up ahead. We have to get there before the Germans can get to San Giovanni's.

* * *

The Germans burst into San Giovanni's and fan out, searching every nook and cranny of the church looking for evidence of the Americans. Kressing steps out of the car and finds the lone priest looking angry at the intrusion.

"Captain, this is the house of God and your soldiers are treating it like it is an American camp."

Kressing regards the old priest with amusement. "Don't worry about it Father; if God has a problem with us being here, let Him say so."

"You blaspheme the name of the Lord, Captain."

"Sir!" Lieutenant Schmidt calls out to Kressing. "The Americans are rushing to the woods!"

The Captain glares back at Father Immanuel."Aiding and abetting the enemy? Tsk, tsk. Lieutenant, take the good priest into custody. I'm sure the Gestapo will be very interested in having a conversation with you Father."

The priest is led away while Kressing gathers the rest of his men to chase down the Americans.

"Remember men, there is only one of them I want alive is the Major. Kill the rest of them and enjoy it."

* * *

The Germans waste no time in the church before they are after us.

"Move!" I yell to them, although no one really needs much extra incentive. The sound of engines and of shouting pierces through the morning. I have a certain feeling it will soon be replaced by something else.

Sure enough, bullets start flying in our direction.

"Keep your head down and keep moving!" I shout. Little patches of dirt fly into the air after stray bullets dig into the ground. The noise of bullets ricocheting off the trees just adds to the chaos.

* * *

"Your orders Captain?" Corporal Jammer looks at his commanding officer as their car continues to drive towards the woods where the Americans are fleeing.

"Corporal, bring out the mortars. If nothing else, it will light up the forest and scare them."

"Yes Sir."

* * *

A horribly familiar, whizzing sound comes from the sky. Not again.

"MORTAR!"

This one explodes behind me, but everyone keeps going. Finally, we come to a river. It takes some frantic searching before we find the small bridge to cross it. The damn thing isn't big enough for more than three people to cross at once.

"The women cross first. Then the rest of us will go." I order them.

"I'll cross with you Mac." Stella tells me.

I shake my head. "This isn't up for discussion Stella."

The women get across with no problems. The two docs and Hayes also have no issues. The sound of the Germans gets closer.

"Hurry you three." I order to Flack, Messer and Ross.

They begin crossing and another mortar comes through the air. It lands in the river, shooting up a column of water. The three of them scramble to cross.

"Hurry up." Lindsay calls out from the other side.

Finally, the three of them finish crossing.

"Hurry Mac, they are almost here." Stella calls out to me.

As quickly as I can, I begin walking across. The whizzing sound pierces the air and the mortar lands in one of the worst possible places; right in the middle of the bridge. The force of the explosion throws me back on the river bank, on the opposite side from everyone else. My back is sore from landing on it so hard.

"MAC!" Stella screams as the bridge is completely destroyed.

I try to shake myself out of a daze. Thankfully I'm not injured in anyway, but I've run out of time. The Germans are almost here. I stay lying on the ground and conserve my strength.

"Mac, please get up!" Stella calls out to me.

I quickly assess the situation. It will be hard for the Germans to catch up to the rest of them with no bridge and I think Kressing will want to keep me alive, at least for a bit.

"I'll be okay Stella." I give her a reassuring smile.

"No you won't! They'll kill you Mac! I don't want to lose you." She shouts furiously, her eyes wet with tears.

I keep the smile on my face despite what I know is going to happen. The Germans are going to probably kill me, but if that is the price for getting everyone else away, then it's worth it.

To my men, I shout out my last orders. "Keep running! Get to the Allied lines! Don't stop!"

They are all giving me a horror-filled, shocked look. They'll be okay, I'm sure of it. They are all smart, resourceful people. And now they have time.

"RUN!" I shout to them.

Very reluctantly, they start heading out, each with an awful look in their eyes. The one who looks worst of all is Stella. Tears are streaming down her face.

I give her another big smile. I don't want her last sight of me to be a sad one. "Good bye Stella." I call out quietly to her as she finally, almost lethargically leaves.

With everyone gone, I stare up at the sky and wait for my fate.

* * *

_Good? Bad? As always whatever your opinion is about this chapter or the story in general, please don't hesitate to submit a review._


	34. Battle of Wills

Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly.

_Thanks as always for your continued interest in this story. I honestly never thought this would be as lengthy as it has turned out to be. Here is another good, long chapter. Enjoy._

**Chapter 34: Battle of Wills**

They're gone now, thank God; my team escaped and now the Germans will have to find their own way to cross the river. Not to mention Kressing. I'm no shrink, but I've seen this son of a bitch enough to know how he works. He'll want to take his time with me, which is time he _isn't_ going after my team.

The Germans are coming closer, I can hear them talking along with a jeep. One of the German voices is Kressing, issuing orders in a cold, authoritarian way.

"There's one of them." I hear one of the soldiers telling his superior. _Thanks for the language lessons Tom_ I offer silently. I'll miss him. I'll miss all of them. They've been a family to me in every possible way and my only regret is that I won't be able to be with them when they get to safety.

A German pair of boots is right beside my head.

"I'm so glad to see you Major. Time to rest."

A sharp kick to my face sends me into unconsciousness.

* * *

Kressing looks down at the unconscious American a sense of gloating triumph pulsating through him. In his great rivalry with the American Major, Kressing is now certain that he has won. To the victor go the spoils and to Kressing, the Major is his prize. Kressing is going to kill him, but he isn't going to be quick or gentle about it.

"Jammer, Schrader put the Major in our jeep. We are heading back to San Giovanni's Church to teach the Major about proper German hospitality. The rest of you keep looking for them."

Jammer grabs the Major under the armpits and Schrader takes him by the legs as they haul him to the jeep. Kressing follows them full of triumph.

* * *

Contrary to his orders, the rest of Major Taylor's team does not continue making their way to Allied lines. The moment they got out of his sight, they defy his orders.

"There's not a snowball's chance in Hell we are leaving him." Flack states unequivocally.

"You're damn right we aren't leaving him" Danny agrees. "Let's find a place to cross this river and go after them. Where do you think they'll take him?"

"San Giovanni's." Stella says, her heart gladdened that each and every one of them is just as resolute as her to rescue Mac.

"Is there another way to get back to the church Stella?" Lindsay asks.

Stella thinks about it for a second. "Yes there is. We'll need to cross the river at not the next bridge but the one after it. That'll take us to the edge of the forest and close to the church.

"Let's go." Flack says, and they head off, determined to save their friend.

* * *

Kressing can hardly contain his glee as his jeep makes the journey back to San Giovanni's. His mind is full of possibilities as to what he'll do to the unconscious man in the back. He could stab him in the liver, one of the most agonizing ways to die. Or he could flay him alive, that one has promise. Or he could burn down the church with him inside. Each of these is a tantalizing possibility. Not a moment too soon the jeep pulls up to the church. As Jammer and Schrader carry the unconscious Major behind him, Kressing leads them to Father Immanuel's old office. Kressing spots a chair in the office.

"Remove his jacket." Kressing orders. The Captain's two subordinates do as he says.

"Good. Now, cut off his shirt and tie his hands behind the chair."

Jammer and Schrader comply with Kressing's orders. The unconscious American Major is now defenseless.

"What are your plans Sir?" Jammer asks.

"Now now Corporal, I don't want to spoil the fun. Wake him up."

Jammer taps the Major on his cheek and he begins to stir.

* * *

A steady _tap tap tap_ against the side of my face stirs me out of my stupor. The room I'm in is familiar; it's Father Immanuel's office. Kressing is standing over me, a wicked grin over his whole face. I glance down and notice my jacket and shirt missing. I feel my wrists bound together behind the chair and my back. He has something planned and it isn't going to end well for me.

"Rise and shine Major." Kressing says with mock concern in his voice. I don't say anything, waiting to see what he is planning on doing.

"Corporal Jammer, Private Schrader, leave us and lock and guard the door. I want no interruptions."

The two German soldiers get out of the room, leaving just me and Kressing.

"Bastard." I spit at him.

He continues to smile. "You have no idea yet about what kind of bastard I can be Major, but I'm going to show you. By the time I'm done, you'll be _begging _me to put you out of your misery."

"Piss off Kressing." I say defiantly, knowing full well that terrible things are about to happen to me.

"Shooting your mouth off until the end, I respect that, but now do be quiet, or I'll cut out your tongue and force you to choke on your own blood."

"Why don't you skip the threats and get on with it." I growl at him, gritting my teeth and preparing for the worst.

"I'll go slowly at first. Hope you don't mind me smoking Major."

He lights a cigarette and barely puffs on it. Instead, he takes the still lit cigarette and puts it out on my bare chest.

I let out a long groan of pain. He leaves the cigarette there until it burns through my skin. He then stubs out the cigarette and lights another one and repeats each painful step. I hold in the pain, unsure of how long I'm going to last.

* * *

Following Stella's directions, the eight Americans and one Italian easily find the bridge to cross the stream and carefully avoid the Germans, heading back to San Giovanni's. Not so far in the back of all of their minds is the terrible thought about what Major Taylor is going through.

_He could already be dead_ a grim thought enters into Hawkes's mind, which he tries to brush aside, but can't. Hawkes feels that he needs to be preparing himself for the possibility that they won't make it in time. If that is the case, then they still have something to accomplish. Even if he is dead, Hawkes is determined to retrieve the Major's body and give him a proper burial.

"Why didn't he try to cross the river?" Adam wonders aloud, breaking the silence.

"That's what's been bothering me too. He could have made it, why didn't he try?" Jess concurs.

"Maybe he thought that since we were okay, he didn't feel like his job was done, that he didn't have to fight anymore." Stella mutters quietly.

This comment stops the rest of them. "What do you mean Stella?" Sid asks gently.

Stella sighs. He might be dying right now, but she still feels that she is betraying his trust by telling them. However, she also feels that they need to know. With this rationalization, Stella tells them all what Mac had told her about his earlier life and about Claire. They listen in silence; none of the Major's men are really surprised, especially after they found him that morning reflecting on something that was clearly haunting him.

"That explains a lot." Tom comments to no one in particular.

"Let's keep going." Danny prompts. They all know he is right. Every minute counts.

They finally make it to San Giovanni's and they notice the singular jeep parked there.

"How many of them could be here in only one vehicle?" Lindsay asks.

"If they brought the Major back in this vehicle, that means that there are probably only three Germans here." Adam comments.

"So what's the plan?" Flack asks.

"If we can disable the guards, we might be able to get their weapons, kill Kressing, and save Mac." Stella suggests.

"Okay, here's what we'll do. One of us will be the bait to lure the Germans into an area where the rest of the group will get the jump on them." Hawkes lays it out

"Good plan. Only question is; who's going to be the bait?"

"I'll do it." It's Danny, speaking in the most determined voice any of them have ever heard.

They iron out the details of the plan.

* * *

The tedious guard duty combined with the stuffiness of the church dulls the senses of Corporal Jammer and Private Schrader. Schrader is nodding off to sleep when out of the corner of his eye; he thinks he sees a person.

"Corporal, there is someone here." Schrader tells his companion.

The two soldiers glance at each other and Jammer decides that they need to investigate. After all, there are two of them and if it is the Americans, they are unarmed.

They head around a corner and Jammer senses that something is the problem. He looks at Schrader and mouths the word "_hinterhalt_" ambush. Schrader nods and the two soldiers prep their weapons, trying to anticipate what the Americans have planned.

Schrader heads into the main section of the church prepared for an ambush, and he finds one. The soldier has his weapon drawn when a hand reaches out and grabs his gun and a body slams into him, taking both to the ground. Schrader and his attacker quickly become a pile of moving limbs each one trying to hit the other to get some precious advantage. Schrader can't see who is attacking him, since they tackled him from behind. He punches the assailant in the arm but unfortunately for Schrader, that's the last victory he gets. His attacker stiffens their resolve and twists Schrader's wrist so that the gun falls out of his hand. The attacker manages to grab the weapon and bashes Schrader in the temple with it, dazing him. Another hit and the Private is knocked unconscious. His own knife is removed from his belt and used to slit his throat. The American takes Schrader's gun and scurries away.

Corporal Jammer nervously heads in the area where his companion was struggling with an assailant. He finds the dead form of Private Schrader. Cursing the Americans, Jammer tries to heighten his awareness even more. He doesn't notice that the dead Schrader is missing his weapon. He is about to rush back to tell Captain Kressing when one of the Americans appears, pointing a pistol at him. Jammer barely raises his gun before he is shot dead by Sergeant Flack.

"Diamonds." Flack calls out.

"Hearts." Danny's voice calls back, confirmation that they are both alive.

"You alright Danny?" Flack asks.

"Yeah I'm fine. Thank God you still have Jess's pistol."

"Since we are in a church I'll amen to that. Let's go get the others and find Major Taylor."

The rest of the team comes into the church.

"Where's Mac?" Stella asks nervously. "We need to find him."

Then, a single, piercing scream fills the air. They rush to the source of it, hoping they aren't too late.

* * *

I endure more cigarette burns as Kressing thinks about what else to do to me. He has been concentrating them over where my heart is, ensuring that a permanent scar will be always be there. _Yeah, but always isn't going to be much longer_ I tell myself morbidly.

Eventually Kressing tires of this game and pulls out his long combat knife. He casual tosses the wicked blade back and forth between his hands, and then he suddenly rushes up to me and puts the knife at my throat.

"No, that'll be too easy."

He takes the knife from my throat and instead brings it down to my stomach.

"You're very lucky Major. I know exactly where to stab you and not damage any vital organs. Sound fun?"

I stare straight ahead not saying a word, trying to ignore him as much as I can. With careful precision he starts inserting the knife into my stomach. I can't hold in a long, piercing cry of agony. He pushes it in deeper, until only the hilt remains visible. The pain is incredible and my head is in a fog because of it.

Kressing grabs my hair and yanks my head up so that we are staring eye to eye with each other.

"You humiliated me Major. You wouldn't break and you won't just accept the fact that you are less than me. Even now, you still try to defy me. Just beg me to put you out of your misery and I will."

"Burn…in…hell." I stammer out. No matter how much pain I'm in or how much I want to, I'm not giving Kressing what he wants. He's going to kill me either way, but I'm not going to beg him to do it.

With the hand grabbing my hair he pulls my head down so I'm looking at the knife still in my chest. He puts his other hand on the knife and slowly begins to twist it adding even more agony. I grit my teeth and let out a long grunt of pain. He leaves the knife in my stomach and pulls out another one. Again he puts it up against my throat.

"You know Major, even if your precious team gets to the Allied lines, they won't be safe. The Wehrmacht is planning an assault on the Allies and I'll make sure they know not to take your people as prisoners."

My eyes briefly grow wide in recognition. If Kressing is telling the truth (and why lie to a dead man), then everyone else is still in danger.

Kressing presses the knife even harder against my throat. "I've had fun with you Major but it's time to end this."

I don't say a word. So this is it then. I hope to God my team is going to be okay.

I must be coming delusional because I think I hear what sounds like muffled voices speaking English. None of these Germans except Kressing speaks any English. Then, there is a pounding on the door, before something very solid slams into it. My tired mind can't concentrate on anything, so I have no idea what is going on.

Kressing looks puzzled himself and steps away from me. The door then bursts open.

Now I know I must be dreaming, because there is Sergeant Flack and Corporal Messer pointing guns at Kressing before firing them, unloading bullets into that sadistic bastard. Kressing collapses to the floor.

"Major!" The two of them stand aside while Doc Hawkes and Doc Hammerback rush over to me. Hawkes quickly unties me and I fall off the chair to my knees. I know this isn't an illusion, so I have one thing I need to do. Running on energy I didn't know I still had, I crawl over to the knife that Kressing dropped. I grab it in my shaky hand and find Kressing. He's still breathing. Driven on by pure hatred I start stabbing into him again and again until I have no strength left. Confident that he is dead, I succumb to exhaustion and collapse.

* * *

The two doctors, Hawkes and Hammerback pull Major Taylor off the now dead Kressing and begin to assess his condition. The Major has a knife in his chest along with what look like multiple cigarette burns around his heart. The rest of the team files into the room and all are horrified at his condition.

"Mac!" Stella rushes over to the beaten, broken body of the Major. "Mac, please say something. Is he okay?" She asks Sid.

Very gently, Hawkes removes the knife and is surprised by the small amount of blood coming out of it. Kressing. Ironically, the sadistic German had actually _saved_ the Major's life. He was so intent on causing him pain that he missed damaging anything vital. The rest of the Major's injuries, while painful, were also superficial.

Hawkes smiles at Stella. "He's going to be okay."

"Let's use the shirt Sid." Hawkes instructs. He tears off a long strip and wraps it around Mac's stomach, covering up the knife wound. While he is doing that, Sid takes the rest of the shirt and uses it to cover up the cigarette burns on Mac's chest.

"Can we stay here for the night?" Stella asks around not wanting to move Mac when he is in this condition.

Tom shakes his head. "Sorry ma'am, we need to keep moving."

"What are we going to do with Mac?" She asks quietly.

This time, it is Adam who has an idea. "We can take one of the altar cloths and use it as a makeshift stretcher."

"Great idea Adam."

Going through the church closet, Jess and Lindsay find one of the altar cloths.

"There were some tree branches outside the church that we can tie the cloth to." Hawkes comments as he continues to look after the Major.

Flack and Danny head out of the church and find the branches. They break them into pieces that they can use as supports for the stretcher. When the two of them come back, they, along with Lindsay and Jess, get the materials together and make a primitive stretcher.

Sid gives them instructions. "Okay we need to move him carefully. He's resting now and we don't need to wake him up."

Hawkes, Ross, and Hayes prepare to lift Mac up and gently place him on the stretcher.

"Tom, Adam, you two carry him. We'll need to monitor him and Danny and Flack have the guns."

"Cheaters." Tom comments dryly. Nonetheless, both he and Adam grab onto the stretcher and begin to carry Mac out of the church.

"Wait." Stella tells them. Carrying his jacket, Stella gently covers his chest with it like a blanket.

With their friend back with them, the escaping team heads south once again, hopefully heading to Allied lines.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Whatever your opinion of this chapter and or story, please don't hesitate to send a review. Our heroes still have a ways to go. Stay tuned, more to come._


	35. Mending and Maneuvers

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks for your patience folks. Some work-related stuff slowed down my writing process. Anyways, here is Chapter 35. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 35: Mending and Maneuvers**

* * *

Deciding that they have a better chance of avoiding the Germans by going instead of staying, the team leaves San Giovanni's. The day is almost over when they head out. No one is singularly in charge especially since Major Taylor is still technically the highest ranking officer present and as Tom commented "military niceties aren't going to keep us alive." By the time the sun starts setting, they have reached the river. Everyone is physically and emotionally worn out after the day they've had.

"Is this an okay place to stop?" Flack asks.

Danny shrugs. "It's fine with me. Anyone have a problem with that?" No one does.

They set up camp in whatever form that takes. Luckily, Father Immanuel had given them all food rations for two nights, and the Allied lines aren't that far away. They have plenty of supplies for this trip.

"How's Mac?" Stella asks Sid and Hawkes for the countless time.

Sid gives her a soft smile "He's still sleeping Ms. Bonasera. Actually if you are going to get injured, this is the best group to be with; we have two well trained doctors and a fine nurse."

"Speaking of." Hawkes jumps in. "Sid if you have that medical kit still, it might be a good time to stitch up the knife wound on the Major's stomach."

Sid nods and Lindsay comes over to join them. Stella reluctantly stands back to let the three of them do their jobs. She keeps watching as Lindsay carefully removes the jacket she had draped over him as a blanket. In the meantime, the two doctors go up to the running waters of the river and wash their hands and equipment. When they come back, the three of them start on their work. Sid slowly removes the torn t-shirt that they have been using as makeshift wrapping. Stella involuntarily winces when she sees the vicious knife wound in his stomach and the spots of blood on it. She can't imagine the pain he had gone through when confronting Kressing. Lindsay holds the dressing while the two doctors stitch him up. Slowly, the ugly wound closes and a line of stitches replaces it. Using another part of the t-shirt, they wrap it again. The Major doesn't move the entire time.

"Good. Now, let's check the burn marks just in case." Hawkes says as Lindsay unwraps the other dressing higher up on his chest. Stella's heart sinks again seeing the scorched and scarred skin where Kressing had delighted in causing him pain. Hawkes and Sid examine the wounds and mutter to each other. They must be satisfied with something because all they do is rewrap the wound.

"How is he doing?" Stella asks.

"Better Stella, he's doing better. The knife wound isn't bleeding anymore and the burns were always superficial. The best thing for him now is rest. He might even wake up tomorrow." Hawkes says reassuringly. Stella feels a warm rush of relief; he's going to be okay.

The rest of the evening passes almost pleasantly. If it were any other place at any other time, it might have been mistaken as a camping trip amongst friends. Flack and Jess nestle together comfortably and Lindsay and Danny do the same. The doctors and Stella watch Mac carefully, waiting for any change in his condition. Eventually, the night wares on until it comes time to sleep. Wanting to stay with him, Stella doesn't leave his side. The other times he had been injured, she couldn't be with him, the war and the Germans getting in her way. Now, there is nothing to keep her from staying with him until he recovers.

Nothing that is, except sleep. Feeling it come upon her, she goes to his side and lies down beside him, wanting to be next to him, to be comforted by the sound of his breathing and the heat coming from his body. Content that he will be here when she wakes up, she waits for sleep which eventually takes her into its welcoming embrace.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm outside looking up at the small points of light known as stars dance in the dark night sky. The sound of what has to be a river is the only noise. A pile that was once a fire is out. A dull throbbing ache radiates from my stomach with other minor irritants coming from my chest. Looking down to examine myself, I notice that my torn t-shirt has been turned into impromptu bandages. My mind races back to the last thing I can remember: Kressing, the knife against my throat, Flack and Messer bursting through the door, Hawkes setting me free, and then stabbing Kressing until the bastard dies. There's something else too, but I can't remember what it is.

I sit up slowly, careful not to exacerbate my injuries. Everyone else is asleep. It's reminiscent of the other night in San Giovanni's. In another flashback to the church, Stella is sleeping beside me; I'd bet a lot of money that she's been beside me ever since they found me. A quick look at her and I notice some goose bumps on her arms. I gingerly move my jacket off me and onto her, making it her blanket. I also take her hand and gently lay it on my chest, wanting to feel a comforting touch while I fall asleep. Whatever other issues we have to confront, it can wait until the morning.

* * *

Sid is the first one awake in the morning. He slowly stands up and observes his friends. He can't help but smile when he looks at Major Taylor and Stella lying there together. Sid notices that the Major's jacket is covering Stella and her hand is resting on his chest. It isn't hard for Sid to figure out what happened; the Major must have woken up for a minute or two.

Keeping a small smile on his face, Sid takes in the morning air and the morning sun. He's always liked this time of day, even during the long cold winters in Boston. He and his wife would wake up early and have coffee while watching the city come to life.

The others start to stir. Sid sighs, shaking away his nostalgia. He'll be in Boston soon enough, he's sure of it.

* * *

Stella wakes up and finds herself confused. She knows she fell asleep next to Mac, but she doesn't remember taking his jacket or putting her hand on his chest. Not wanting to disturb him, she slowly starts to maneuver herself away from him until a strong hand grabs her wrist.

"Don't go."

* * *

With Stella starting to move, I figure it must be time to get up. I grab onto her wrist as she begins to move.

"Don't go." I tell her softly.

"Mac, you're okay." She says excitedly tells me.

"More or less." I open my eyes and look at her, a big smile across her face.

She sits up and hands my jacket back to me, surprising me by kissing me on my cheek.

"Thanks for the blanket." She whispers to me.

"Major!" It's Sergeant Flack hurriedly coming over to me, followed by the rest of them. I quickly put my jacket on and start to stand up.

"Let us help you up Sir." Flack and Ross each grab one of my arms and help me get to my feet.

"Thank you both."

"Just glad to see you're okay Sir." Messer reassures me.

"I am okay, but you all do know you disobeyed my direct orders to leave me." I give them the classic stare of an officer looking at disobedient soldiers.

They all look surprised at my words. "But Sir, with all due respect, we saved your life by disobeying your orders." Hayes tries to reason.

"And you all could have been killed yourselves trying to save me. Not to mention the fact that you have three civilians with you who could have also been hurt." I point out.

Flack looks incredulous. "Sir, I'm sorry, but if you gave that order again, I'd disobey it again. We weren't going to leave you behind Sir."

I look at the intensity within Flack and the stern look I've been keeping gives way. "And Major, that's exactly what makes us different than the Germans. We give a damn about each other."

I'm surprised by the wisdom in Flack's words. He's right of course. And I know full well that if my superiors had given me that kind of order, I'd have disobeyed it too.

Messer decides to lighten the mood. "How about this Sir; the next time you almost get yourself killed, we'll leave you. Deal Sir?"

I crack a smile. "Deal Corporal. Let's get going."

We pack up the camp after a quick meal and head out again. This time, Nurse Lindsay takes the lead along with Messer since she's the only one who's been to the Allied camp. Aside from some pain in my stomach, I feel okay. I'm still trying to jog my memory to remember what I had forgotten. It was something Kressing had done or told me.

The day is quite. The Krauts that Kressing kept after us must have given up or gone back to find their commander now nothing more than a rotting corpse in San Giovanni's Church. The rest of the team is talking in an excited manner, wondering what they are going to do when we get back to the Allied camp.

We stop for lunch and are about to head out when I get an epiphany. Kressing mentioned something about an offensive by the German Army against the Allies.

"We have to leave, now." I quickly tell them with urgency in my voice.

"What's wrong Sir?" Ross asks me.

I quickly relate what Kressing told me. Now the concern has spread to the rest of them as well.

"Let's hurry." I urge them. We need to get back and warn the high command.

The closer we get to the supposed camp, the more worried I get. There have been clear signs of movement in the area, but no signs of battle, which doesn't help me feel better. After some more time, we get up to a hill which Lindsay has been saying overlooks the Allied camp.

Except when we get there, it's gone. A fight _had_ broken out somewhere around here. The trees in the area have holes in them or have been destroyed, and the charred evidence of burnt buildings covers the ground.

"What does this mean?" Flack asks

I know what all of this means and I dread sharing it with everyone else. This is worse than almost every other setback and tragedy we've encountered. We were so close.

I don't even look at Flack. "This means that the German offensive that Kressing mentioned succeeded. They drove the Allies back to Sicily."

Everyone falls into silence. It fully hits each and every one of us.

We are trapped.

* * *

_Good? Bad? As always, I would love to hear your opinion about this chapter or the whole story in general. We are coming close to the end. Just a couple chapters left. Stay tuned._


	36. Burying the Dead, and the Hatchet

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Wow, you all are great; over 200 reviews for this story. It's deeply humbling. Here is Chapter 36. Enjoy. _

* * *

**Chapter 36: Burying the Dead, and the Hatchet**

* * *

Everyone is in a very somber mood. I think they are all in shock really. We all thought that once we got to where Lindsay said the Allied camp was, this journey would be finally over. It isn't. Now not only are we still in German territory, but our goal has been driven back over the water.

"What the Hell happened!" Flack explodes in frustration and anger.

"Isn't it obvious Flack? We're screwed! We've gotten to the camp and it doesn't exist anymore! We're trapped! We're never getting back to friendly territory!"

"You don't know that Messer! And what the Hell is with the negative attitude? You aren't helping!" Flack retorts in anger.

"Oh no, not again." Ross mutters a little too loudly.

"Shut up Adam. You aren't being useful either." Messer lashes out.

"Back off Messer. What'd he do to you? And why don't you shut up yourself!" Flack yells.

"You want to try something?" Messer yells back.

"ENOUGH!" I bellow out. "If I hear any of you yell one more thing at anyone else, I'll personally kick your ass! For God's sake, we've been taken as prisoners, escaped, and have all managed to stay alive. So we've suffered a setback, get over it! Stop your damn complaining and think of a way out of this!" I yell at them, venting some of my own frustration, but it does serve another purpose. We can't start fighting each other and we can't give up hope yet.

They mercifully quite down, allowing me the chance to think.

"Well then what do we do Major?" Messer asks shortly.

"We get to Sicily." I tell them in no uncertain terms.

"Oh, is that all?" Flack snorts. "No problems there, we just have to get a boat. That shouldn't be too hard." Sarcasm pierces every word he says and I lose my temper. I turn and glare directly at him.

"Yes, it's going to be difficult Sergeant Flack and if you don't like that or think it is too hard, then march your ass back to Camp Percival and give yourself up to Commandant von Touffel. Well? Go ahead soldier. Either start marching or stop bitching!"

He falls silent, but keeps a dour look on his face. I turn to the woman standing next to Corporal Messer.

"Lindsay, did you encounter any towns on your way up to the base?"

She thinks about it for a minute. "Yes, there was a very small fishing village to the south of the base."

I nod. "We'll head that way then."

We continue walking now with a quiet, sullen mood permeating throughout the group. Everyone seems to think that conversation is not only inappropriate, but could end in another argument.

We walk through the charred remains of the Allied camp. The whole place has been destroyed in every possible way. There are also the shattered remains of tanks, jeeps, machine gun nests and everything else. At what used to be the medical barracks, Lindsay shows Docs Hawkes and Hammerback where to find some extra supplies, just in case. Then, we come into another area and find an even more grisly scene; a group of charred and disregarded bodies.

The women cover their mouths or look away. All the bodies have varying degrees of burns, with some of them little more than smoldering skeletons and others have flesh, some even still have their faces. It's a disgusting sight, but it is also a harsh reminder, not that we need any, that war is an awful business.

"Find something to dig with. We are going to give them a proper burial." I order my men. They look at me wearily but don't protest. I notice that the ones who've gotten into fights are avoiding each other. I'm not having it.

"No. You two." I point to Hawkes and Hayes "deal with those few. You three." I gesture to Ross, Flack and Messer "take care of those."

Now they all are giving me a nasty look, one I'm in no mood for. "That's an order soldiers." I tell them as they start to get to work. I'm not particularly concerned about them not liking each other or me right now. They are all adults; they can sort out that crap on their own. What I won't tolerate is them refusing to work with each other. We are a military unit and we have to act like a unit. If I have to force them to do it, then I will.

While they do the burying, I keep looking around for… I'm not really sure. I guess I just need time to think. If Lindsay is right and there is a fishing village to the south of us, then what happens? What if the Germans are there? What if they don't want to help us? What if it's been destroyed too? What do we do then?

Doc Hammerback finds me standing here and trying to think of all these things. He puts an arm on my shoulder.

"You okay Major?" He asks me. It isn't like most of the time when people ask the question. It's sincere.

I almost give him an "I'm fine" answer but something stops me.

"I'm worried Doc. I thought this would be over when we got here, but now, well look at this place."

"But Major, we have a plan. We're going to that village Nurse Lindsay talked about and we'll get help there."

"But Doc what if they don't want to help us? We are placing a lot of faith in people who might not be very sympathetic to us. What'll we do then?"

"I'm sure you'll come up with a plan Major." He tries to reassure me.

"But what if I can't Doc?"

"You got us this far. I trust you Mac." He says, using my first name for the first time.

"Thanks." I feel better after talking with him.

"Major! We're done." Flack calls out to me. Doc Hammerback and I make our back over to them. Flack isn't lying. All the bodies have been properly taken care of.

"Good job, all of you. Let's keep going. I'd like to get to this fishing town before dark."

Our seemingly never ending journey continues yet again. We leave the burnt down camp full of ghosts and false hopes.

The task I gave to my men seems to be having the intended effect, at least for three of them. Flack, Messer and Ross are all talking to each other as friends again. Hawkes and Hayes aren't. Ross privately told me what happened between the two of them and I was appalled and disgusted that they did that to each other. It's even more frustrating that I can remember when they didn't mind each other and could even be called friends. It seems that that is permanently gone.

"Is it much farther Linds?" Danny asks the woman whose side he almost never leaves.

"About another mile or so, don't worry." She says with characteristic optimism.

Unfortunately for us, that mile or two turns into hell. A sound we haven't heard in a day comes roaring back; jeeps, other vehicles, and weapons. And German soldiers.

"RUN!" I yell as we all start to take off. Even worse, they start firing away at us. Bullets fly in our direction as the roar of vehicles comes from behind us. About the only thing we have on our side is the fact that it is dusk and the Germans are relatively far away. We have to get as much distance between the Germans and ourselves. It's really are only hope of getting out of this.

That's when it happens. Instead of the sound of bullets missing or burying into the ground, one of them hits. A piercing cry fills the air. I look back and see that Staff Sergeant Hayes is on the ground, his glasses knocked off and his face in pain. A bullet went through his leg.

"Tom!" To my surprise, it's Doc Hawkes who rushes back the fastest. He bends down and has a quick talk with Tom. Bullets continue to fly all around us, but now the Krauts have concentrated on Hayes and Hawkes.

"Messer, Flack, provide them with cover fire!" The two of them start firing. I turn to Sid "you get these three out of here. We'll catch up!" They reluctantly agree and scurry away.

Doc Hawkes helps the wounded Staff Sergeant to his feet. Hayes leans on Hawkes and starts limping back towards us. Messer and Flack manage to pick off a couple of the Germans.

"Fall back! Fall back!" I order my men. Hawkes and Hayes leave first and I follow them with Messer and Flack continuing to fire at the Germans to keep them at bay. For reasons I don't understand, the Germans don't pursue us. We quickly catch up to Doc Hammerback and the women. Hayes lies on the ground, moaning and cursing as the two Docs patch up his leg.

"Damn Kraut bastards." He swears.

"Hold on Tom, almost done." Doc Hammerback tells him. "There."

"Can you walk Staff Sergeant?" I ask him.

"Wait a minute. Here use this." Stella finds a tree branch that is long enough for the tall Staff Sergeant to use as a crutch.

"Thank you kindly ma'am." He says with a grimace.

"Just tell me the moment you need to rest Staff Sergeant." I tell him.

"Yes Sir." Before we start moving, Hayes turns to Hawkes and sticks out his hand. "Please accept my apologies Doctor; I was wrong to act like that and say those things. And thank you for saving my life."

Hawkes shakes his hand. "I'm sorry too Tom. It's done with."

"Agreed." He looks at me. "I'll be fine, we can keep moving Sir."

We go at as fast of a pace as Hayes's leg can keep up. I won't say it publicly to avoid embarrassing them, but I'm very proud of both of them. Hell, I'm proud of all of them. When it mattered most, they all came together as team.

By now, the sun has disappeared and night is upon us, but finally lady luck is on our side. We make it to the fishing village that Lindsay talked about. It's right on the tip of Italy; even in the darkness, a dark shape that has to be Sicily is off in the distance. I'll always be grateful after this that the Italians like to eat dinner late. The few families that make up this place are gathered together to share a meal when we arrive. Initially they are nervous and scared about what we might do to them. Then, Stella starts talking to them in their native language. The transformation is almost like magic. They go from being hostile and suspicious of us to being very warm and welcoming. They even graciously let us sit down to join them for their meal. The main course is a fish and pasta dish that tastes better and richer than almost anything I've ever eaten. After one plate full I'm stuffed. Messer and Flack have two each. Somehow the food keeps coming until even those two have had enough. These people seem thrilled that we are here, as if we are the very embodiment of all of their hopes of being liberated by the Allies. I'm almost nervous to ask them for a boat to get to Sicily. I don't know what Stella says to them, but they seem willing, even eager to lend us a boat.

She turns to me after she's finished speaking with them. "They'll gladly lend us one of their fishing boats for the journey to Sicily. They have only one condition."

"What's that?" I ask.

"That we go in the morning."

I'm relieved by their terms. I was actually hoping we'd get a chance to rest. I've been trying to hide it but the stab wound in my stomach has started to flare up again after what we've had to deal with today.

"Stella, tell them we'll gladly accept that condition."

"They said that we can sleep in their homes for the evening on the floor. They'll even provide fresh blankets."

"Tell them we are deeply thankful."

"They don't to hear that Mac; Italians open their arms wide to strangers."

It isn't long before the dinner starts to wind down. Everyone is tired and exhausted after another long day, but I'm more optimistic now; this time, I'm sure we're almost there and I fall asleep with that comforting thought.

* * *

When we are ready to leave the next morning, one of the fishermen, an older gentleman by the name of Benedetto shows us his vessel, grinning at his pride and joy. It's much like its owner; old, but proud, bearing the marks of a life spent on the seas of the Mediterranean.

Everyone gets in and he sets sail. The dark mass of land known as Sicily looks like the Promised Land. Mercifully, the Allies still have control of the seas and the air, so when we get far enough away from the coastline, I breathe a sigh of relief; we're safe, for now.

Unlike some of our other days on this journey, this one is relaxing and pleasant. The fact that we don't even have to walk today is a welcome change of pace. Finally, all good things must come to an end and so does our boat ride. We arrive on the shores of Sicily. Benedetto lets us off with cheerful flair, as if he is Captain of a major cruise liner. Given our circumstances, I'd take his fishing boat over a cruise liner any day of the week.

"Arrivederci Benedetto." I call out to him. I'm sure I'm butchering the proper pronunciation, but he returns the goodbye with a smile nonetheless.

"Where do we go now?" Ross wonders.

"Messina is close, maybe less than a mile. We'll find help there."

It doesn't even take that long, as we walk towards the city, a patrol of soldiers stumbles across us. They're British and I've never been happier to see them in my life.

"Mornin lads. What are you doing with these ladies?" The commander, a Captain asks.

"Captain, I'm Major Taylor and these are my men. We are escaped POW's from a German camp on the mainland."

His eyes grow wide and he offers me a salute. I'm sure he's shocked at what I've told him. "Well Major, you've all been on quite a journey. We'll take you to the camp to get you cleaned up and then you can discuss this with the General."

"Thank you Captain." I return his salute.

Total, overwhelming relief and joy fills my entire being. We made it. Bloodied, bandaged, and not in the best of shape, but we made it. We're safe.

Our escape from Camp Percival is over.

* * *

_Good? Bad? As always if you have an opinion about this chapter or story in general, please submit a review. I can't believe I'm saying this, but we have only one more chapter to go. Stay tuned. Oh, and congrats to our show for being renewed for another season._


	37. Endgames

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Here it is folks. The last Chapter. I have to say that this is very bittersweet for me. But, all good things must come to an end. Here is Chapter 37. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 37: Endgames**

* * *

The next few hours before I brief the High Command pass as a kind of wonderful blur. The British soldiers we link up with radio ahead of time to headquarters. A whole group of both soldiers and other staff are there to greet us and they cheer our group like we had won the War ourselves. It fully hits everyone that we've really truly made it.

Both Hayes and I are taken to the medical barracks. They change my dressings but otherwise clear me. The Staff Sergeant has to stay longer, and I have to laugh at the sore look he gets when they tell him that. In the meantime, the rest of the team debriefs to some of the other officers before I have to give the big briefing to the General himself.

A Captain Wilder, the General's aide de camp comes to see me and provides me with a very welcome present; a new uniform. He tells me to shower and get ready for my meeting with his superior. Both the shower and the uniform are a refreshing change of pace. Just as I finish put my rank insignia's on my uniform, Wilder comes in.

"Major Taylor, the General will see you now."

"Thank you Captain, lead the way."

He takes me into Messina where the General's office and living quarters are. The General is in a rather lavish headquarters. I'm not surprised. He does have a flair for the dramatic.

"This way Major." Wilder leads me into the General's office. The General himself is looking out his window.

"Major Taylor here to see you Sir" Wilder calls out to his superior before leaving. I salute the General as he turns around. He is in his dress uniform with three stars on his helmet and a variety of medals on his chest. His face is very familiar to soldiers and civilians as well. He's always in the press about something.

"General Patton Sir."

He returns the salute. "Major Taylor at ease." He comes closer to me. "Now I have to say Major, you've certainly caused a stir here. Escaping from a POW camp, evading the Krauts for days and then getting to this island. That's a damn fine job soldier."

"Thank you Sir."

"I'm not done yet Taylor. First off, the rank of Major is far too low for someone who has caused the enemy that much of a headache. As of now, you're Colonel Taylor."

"Thank you Sir." I say with surprise.

"Still not finished Colonel. My subordinates have been talking with your men and they've told me all about how you acted in that Kraut camp. I'm damn impressed Colonel. You've done a hell of a lot more to harass the enemy than most of my men. In addition to your new rank you will be receiving three Purple Hearts and the Silver Star. I will also put in an application for you to receive the Distinguished Service Cross."

"Yes Sir. Thank you. Permission to speak freely Sir?"

"Granted."

"What about my men Sir?"

"Patience Colonel. As for your men, they will be given appropriate promotions and all of them will be awarded the Bronze Star. As for those women, that Italian, Ms. Bonasera, will receive the Legion of Merit and I will ensure that Ms. Angell and Ms. Monroe are also properly decorated."

"Thank You Sir."

"I have to admit Colonel, after your unit was ambushed; we had you counted as one of the casualties. It was only when we heard from our friends at the OSS about your escape plan that we realized you were alive. You sure have been given those Hun bastards hell and I respect that Colonel."

"Yes Sir. Sir, is there going to be any inquiry as to what happened to my unit?"

General Patton gives me an odd look. "Colonel, war is hell. The men in your unit died as heroes fighting the Krauts. I will personally make sure that no paper-pushing idiot tries to give you any trouble about what happened."

"Thank you Sir."

"I've been thinking about what the hell to do with you Colonel as well as your men and I've made my decision. You and your men will constitute the core group of soldiers that will train the rest of my units in dealing not only with escaping POW camps, but also evading the enemy behind their lines."

"Excuse me Sir, but does that mean that my men and I will be staying together?"

"Absolutely Colonel. You are far too effective a group to split up. If they want to, those women can stay with you too."

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir." I can't hide a smile. I really didn't believe that we would be staying together. This is a better outcome than I could have imagined. Not only is our group not being split up, but we can draw on what happened to us to help other soldiers avoid a similar fate.

"Keep fighting the Krauts in your own way Colonel. You are dismissed."

I give him a salute. "Yes Sir."

He returns the salute. "Give them Hell Colonel. Give them Hell."

* * *

For the rest of the War, my men and I follow the job given to us by General Patton. We stay in Sicily and help train Allied forces. Eventually, we are transferred to England to help with training for the Norman invasion. All the while, we are kept off the front-lines. As General Patton told me once "you all cause the Krauts more Hell back here than out there."

Our friendship as a group deepens as we spend the last three years of the War together, but sadly, eventually we have to go our separate ways as the Second World War comes to an end.

Danny Messer and Lindsay Monroe got married immediately after the War ended. Lindsay persuaded Danny to move out to Montana where the two would own and work on their own ranch. Before too long, they would have a daughter named Lucy.

Don Flack and Jess Angell also married and lived in New York. Jess became a popular local singer and Don would become a member of the New York Police Department.

Doctor Sid Hammerback returned to Boston and reunited with his wife. He would be one of the city's renowned surgeons before retiring to become a prominent local chef.

Doctor Sheldon Hawkes opened a practice in Detroit where he became not only one of the city's leading doctors, but also a leading community activist. He would later meet and march with Dr. Martin Luther King while working to desegregate Detroit.

Adam Ross went back to Scranton and married Kendal Novak. He worked as a mechanic at the local car shop for many years. Later in life, he would become fascinated by a small upstart company called IBM where he would work as well.

Tom Hayes returned to DeFuniak Springs where he became involved in politics. Elected to the Florida Legislature, he became one of that body's most forceful advocates for African-American civil rights. He would become an honorary member of the Florida NAACP.

Albrecht von Touffel was captured by the Allies and put on trial for the atrocities committed in Camp Percival. General Patton informs me that I have been called as the "star witness" for both the defense and the prosecution. I'm taken to the scene of the trial; Nuremburg. I testify to everything that happened to me and my men in the camp, including the executions of Weems, Grant, Smith and Davis and my solitary confinement for seven days with no food. Albrecht von Touffel, Commandant of Camp Percival, was found guilty and sentenced to 15 years in prison.

Stella Bonasera immigrates to the United States shortly after the end of the War. Before she leaves, she heads back to Umberetto, to help commemorate a plaque in honor of Sal, one young man who was a tragic casualty of War.

As for me, before I head back to Chicago, I make a detour to Baltimore. In that city, I find the parents of Sam Wesley. Throughout the entire War, I kept that letter he gave me with his dying grasp. I finally keep my promise and the letter is back with his parents.

* * *

One day, I'm sitting outside my usual deli in Chicago, enjoying a sandwich at lunch mere days before I formally resign my commission from the Army. I still am not completely sure as to what I'm going to do after my military days are over but I know it's time to move on.

"What to do now?" I wonder out loud to myself.

"I think I have an idea." A voice says behind me. I turn around and to my complete surprise, Stella is standing here, in Chicago, looking at me with a smile. I quickly scramble to my feet and give her a hug.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her.

"I'm an American now Mac. I'm looking to find a place to live in this big country of ours."

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't too hard." She smiles mysteriously. "Mac, can you believe it? All of us survived a whole World War."

"Not all of us." I mutter, thinking of the woman I lost.

"Mac, she's still with you. You know that right?"

I let out a sigh. "You're right Stella. Thank you, for everything, especially being my friend."

She keeps that smile on her face. "You're welcome. Now, why don't you show me around this city of yours?"

"Now? But, what about…" She leans in and kisses me.

"Mac, we have time."

Yes, we have all the time in the world.

* * *

_I really can't believe it, but that's it. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story. I really never thought it would turn into such a long, in-depth story but it did. A very, very special thanks to everyone who reviewed my story: rocksmacked, afrozenheart412, .x, Storywriter, Ditte3, DreamerChild88, sucker-4-SMacked, Fourteen Lights, StellaBonaseraTaylor, kdzl, BlueEyedAuthor, olehobome, Yoto-Ziva-Blye, jaamiee, Lenni George, nwegh, Divinia Serit, saturn567, Electrical storm 1996, Wildweasel, ncisaholic, Catulicious, lily moonlight, HuddyAddict87, Aranna Undomiel, Kat's in the cradle, CSI4lyfNCIS13, and moska. You all are the best. _

_If you have any final thoughts overall or general reviews of pretty much anything, please don't hesitate to communicate with me. I've got a couple new stories that I'll get started on soon. Thanks again._

_Mr. GOP88 aka_

_J._


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